A Future Rewritten
by Tierl
Summary: AU BOF4 fic on Fou-Lu. Contains romance, violence, graphic descriptions. Minimal language. I update if you review: Chapter 37! School. BLEH!
1. Introduction, Disclaimer, and Author's N...

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Disclaimer- the characters of Breath of Fire 4 and the settings and story described in the game do not belong to me. My sole claim is to Yahla, the idea and way her existence changes the story, and several other characters noticeably not included in the game. All rights to Breath of Fire 4 belong to Capcom Entertainment, INC. Rights also go to anyone else who helped create the game. My only intent in writing this piece of fiction is for the enjoyment of my friends and myself. No money is or has been made on this fic. A note: anyone wishing to reproduce this fic on any page must request my permission and agree not to use the fic for profit or to claim it as their own work. This disclaimer will not be repeated on other chapters, however, it applies to all of them and any connected work. The first part of this fic uses quotes directly from the game up until where Yahla comes into play. These quotes are not mine, and are property of Capcom. Please Read and Review, but limit your comments to those that are helpful. Flames will not be tolerated. 

A Future Rewritten

A Breath of Fire 4 fanfic

By Tierl

Introduction

The night was dark, and if the stars were there they did not see fit to show their faces to the earth. What little light there was came from the moon, which cast its rays on the polished stone of a four-tiered, pyramidal tomb that from appearances had been left abandoned for centuries. The setting added to that semblance, for the forest had been discontent to maintain its man-made boundaries, and greenery had sprouted up in between stone cracks and along the edge of walls. 

Up on the fourth tier, the devastation of years was not as noticeable. The stones were cracked, a tile chipped here and there. Otherwise, the plateau at the top of the tomb was as untouched as the day the tomb had been made. Made with a purpose. Made to guard and protect its occupant until the time came that he was to arise.

The time had come. A blast of light that made even the moon seem dim, and an entrance appeared where yet another jade tile had been but a moment before.

The moon dimmed, and the stars came out.

The long expected was finally happening. 

Elsewhere, the moon shone on another structure of ancient days; a building that could be called either a tomb or a temple, and would serve equally well as either. There, nothing stirred and growth that did not as much edge the stones there, but cover them, made it clear that no one had set foot there for far, far longer than a mere score of years. 

It was a modest affair, when compared to some, and small enough that the trees hid it completely from the air. Its presence had been forgotten among the minds of mortals, and even those of the Endless who knew of its existence probably could not find it without a difficult search.

It was hidden, secret. And its would call into play an event that would alter the strands of fate, and rewrite the future.

-Authors note-

This is the introduction to what will be a very long, **very AU**fic after a certain point. Yes, it's very short right now, but this is just to get the story established on the net. Future updates will be much longer, guaranteed. In fact, this ought to be the shortest thing I ever put up.

If you dislike Fou-Lu, I suggest you get out now. This fic will be all about him. In my story, Fou-Lu is straight ***winks and grins at Vincent Seyuri*** and there will be definite nudity, sexual remarks, language, blood, and other mature situations. **At very _least_ this fic will be rated pg-13!**_ Please use your discretion. Rating may increase, depending. _

If anyone knows the exact dates or facts involved in Breath of Fire 4 (like how old the empire is, how long Fou-Lu slept, how long he ruled as first emperor before going into hibernation, etc.) please tell me. Also, any details on the history of the Empire or the other nations would be appreciated. Also, if you see any definite errors in my writing, let me know. ^_^ Feel free to email me with suggestions, comments, and criticisms. I promise to take them into account, provided they are reasonable. Enthusiastic Flamers will be met with large quantities of dry ice. Also, anyone asking me to dumb-down my vocabulary will be ignored. Get a dictionary or email me with a question about it. 

Oh, and in MY world, Fou-Lu is golden-eyed and left handed, and I will stand firm on that. And I may take liberties with his outfit, as it is portrayed differently throughout the game. For instance, in the cover art and official Capcom artwork, we see that his outfit (not counting the red undershirt) is fairly seamless, so to speak, with both top and bottom appearing to be a sort of one-piece thing. However, in the game, we see him several times wearing only pants, which means the cover art must be incorrect, as is the anime introduction. So, in MY version dear Fou-Lu wears baggy pants and an elaborate long-sleeved shirt with a somewhat frilled V neckline and a red turtleneck undershirt. However, I won't change the belt, gloves, or shoes, as they are extremely cool looking. All Hail the God-Emperor, Lord of Fashionable Accessories.

Now, about Fou-Lu's speech patterns. He does NOT speak Old English, for those of you who know little about such things. Old English resembles German, and the modern English-speaker wouldn't even be able to understand it. The closest to Fou-Lu's manner of speech is Middle English, although he uses definitely a more modern version. Still, I have made a list of several Middle English word (though I have altered their spelling to accommodate readers) at the end of this fic, so if a word Fou-Lu thinks or says gives you trouble, please access the glossary. I have used only words I think readers will understand, as most Middle English words and phrases would simply cause unnecessary confusion. If you are interested in actual genuine Middle English, please access other sources, this is not necessarily correct.

-Tierl-


	2. Chapter 1 Promises Broken

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Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work. 

Chapter One

Promises Broken

His first step up out of the darkness that had made up his existence for centuries, the cool night air caressed his face. It blew away the stink of incense and too-strong perfumes that had affixed itself to his body after lying so long next to scented offerings and gifts. His second step afforded him a view of the moon and stars, which seemed not to have changed under the emperor's critical eye. _To mortals, they art as the Endless,_ he thought. Stars changed but slowly, and they had always been there.

There had not been a forest here, once, he noticed absently as he heard the click of Won-Qu's claws on the steps behind him and felt the guardian's presence at his back. They made an imposing sight together, softly illuminated by the bounce of moonlight off of jade tiles. 

Fou-Lu was garbed in the same ensemble he had taken with him into his long dormancy. Loose silk pants clung to his hips and hinted at the muscles lining his long legs. He wore a thin, high-collared silk undershirt with a silver symbol emblazoned on the crimson fabric. Over it came a long-sleeved silk shirt of sorts. The fabric of the purple shirt rested on his shoulders before plunging into a deep, angled neckline that ended around his midsection and left his undershirt clearly visible. The gloves that covered his hands and laced up along his forearms were red, and their fingers had been wrapped in linen strips to improve grip. His boots, red as blood, had identical strips of linen on the heel and toe to aid traction. Cinched about his slender hips was a wide scarlet belt with a band of gold along the center and a golden emblem of a stylized dragon in the middle. It hung sideways, and was secured by another strip of cloth that rested on his left hip. A pair of ruby earrings were set in his pointed ears and a wide band of red cloth about his brow attempted to secure his silver-white hair. It fell in waves to the mid of his back, but even with the headband his long bangs still managed to work their way over his face and eyes.

Won-Qu, turquoise and tan, stood almost tall enough to be on eye level with the average human. His golden, orange-rimmed eyes were set in a hound-like face beneath the animal's twin horns. Muscles and sinew stood out under his fur, and his frame was reminiscent of a wolf on steroids. A mane of bluish hair fell down the back of his neck, completing the image of a ferocious, beautiful animal. Surrounded by the jade that made up the tomb, the guardian looked at home. He blended into the stone as if born from it.

"So…" said Fou-Lu, god-emperor and Endless, his voice almost too loud in the silence. "The time hath come." 

Won-Qu sat at his shoulder, examining the surroundings with interest equal that of his master's. The guardian had not left the tomb once during Fou-Lu's long sleep, and the emperor could sense the animal's eagerness to stretch his legs for the first time in centuries. "Yes, m'lord," the beast said dutifully. There was a bit of hesitation about Won-Qu's voice, but the animal continued. "Majesty…T'would appear that something is amiss. Where art the courtiers? The priests? Why is there not a single voice raised in greeting at thy return?" The last was said with an air of bewilderment. Won-Qu and his brother A-Tun worshiped the ground the first emperor walked on and always had. Fou-Lu, always composed, allowed himself a small smile before considering his companion's words.

He dismissed them after a moment's thought. _Mayhap they have forgotten us… No matter. They wilt be…reminded._ "'Tis not of import. They art mortals. Were we to attempt to understand their mind, we should spend an eternity." It was a somewhat exasperating reality that he could no more fully understand the minds of mortals than they could understand his. "There be more pressing matters to attend to." His eyes closed briefly and his mouth pursed slightly as he reached out to feel for the presence of his other half. It was there, a golden, glittering life-stream that outshone any other near. "Canst thou not sense it? This presence…'tis far…and still slumbering…" Fou-Lu's eyes opened slowly, and he found himself gazing at the pitted moon overhead. His long sleep had drained him more than he had thought. Even finding the other had proved harder than it should have. The other was a part of him, and thus, locating him should have been effortless. "But 'tis what we have sought lo these many ages." 

There was silence behind him.

"Won-Qu!" he ordered, a bit more sharply than he had intended. The guardian, who dreaded his master's displeasure, winced. Fou-Lu moderated his voice. Won-Qu had watched over him for centuries, and did not deserve mistreatment. "Guard our place of rest."

"As you wish, sire." The hound sat his hindquarters down in front of the entrance. Fou-Lu, confident that the subordinate would fulfill his command, turned and walked down the flight of stairs that led down from the tomb. "Majesty, wither art thou going?" the guardian called out when Fou-Lu had nearly reached the center of the stairs.

The First Emperor kept walking, but directed his voice so that Won-Qu would hear him. "We shall go to our capital, as was planned. We shall meet at the appointed place when the time hath come." 

With that, the master vanished from Won-Qu's sight and the guardian sighed. Alone, the color slowly leeched from his body, and in moments where Won-Qu had stood was a statue in his likeness. It was gray and cold, but unexplainably alive…

The exit from the stretch of ground that housed the tomb of the first emperor came in the form of a gate set in the wall that ringed the place. It was, of course, decorative: a series of roofed stone arches that did absolutely nothing to keep anything in or out. Down from the gate was another flight of stairs, which Fou-Lu navigated with ease.

The bottom step led out onto a narrow road that had been carved into the ground. From where he stood on the path, ground level was at about the top of his head. Along the road grew trees, but mostly bushes. The area was thick in undergrowth and produced an impenetrable wall of greenery.

Fou-Lu pondered as he walked. _'Tis of little likelihood that mine empire hath fallen. There be a greater chance that the mortals hath simply forgotten us, or believest no longer that our rest 'tis merely temporary. _He had been forced to leave the paved road for a path next to it when several collapsed columns blocked the way. As it was dry, the going was not too difficult, but Fou-Lu still had to pay more attention to where he was going least he trip over a root that had worked itself over the trail or get greenery stuck in his hair. _Well, should it prove the latter, mine subjects wouldst do well to mend their beliefs. _

He would have continued walking, lost in thought, but the sound of movement ahead drew him up short. Thoughtful, he continued forward at a much slower pace, his eyes centered on the two mortals standing guard on the declining dirt ramp that led to the next section of road. They were quite obviously soldiers, and their clothes bore the cut of a uniform. They also wore the same type of helmet-- an awkward looking affair that tended to interfere with the owner's eyesight. Perhaps those helmets were the reason the mortals seemed disinclined to notice him. 

It was the guard in green that noticed Fou-Lu first and leveled a spear at him. "Who goes there!?" the man demanded. He was a thick, mustached mortal, certainly on his way to middle aged. His companion, a younger, skinny fellow in purple, didn't even see the emperor until Fou-Lu had walked fully into view and stood about a foot away from them.

"What…" Fou-Lu paused, regarding the humans for a moment. "What be ye doing in this place?" 

The first guard, who was apparently not the brightest fellow, said, "Huh? Who're you?"

The second guard, while originally a bit slower on the draw, proved to have more mental capacity. "They say a dragon or something's supposed to appear tonight… so we were told to watch this area."  
"…A dragon?" he said slowly. _These mortals abided here for us…but why? They canst not have been sent in greeting, else they wouldst have known we needst not take a reptilian form…_There were many possible explanations, but only a few fit, and none were pleasant.

"That's right," the younger guard said, apparently having dismissed Fou-Lu as a threat. "And not just any dragon, either! They say it's the legendary Dragon of Doom, which will bring ruin to the Empire!"

_How canst I be doom to that which mine hands hath created?_ he wondered as the mortal's statement sank in. "And… what be thy design…" Fou-Lu asked slowly, to confirm what he felt he already knew. _For me… _"For this dragon?"

"We will destroy it, of course!" the first human said, making one of the last blunders in his pitiful life. "Nothing can withstand the might of the Imperial Army!"

Fools, he thought, incredulous. "Thou believest thou can do such a thing? Thou art but mere mortals." The very idea of a mortal killing a dragon was so absurd it was funny, and Fou-Lu couldn't help the slight smile that crossed his proud features. Fou-Lu was arrogant and smug, and knew it, but he felt he had more than the right to be so. "Thou dost not ken the power of that which you would destroy."

The smarter of the two was watching him with horrified comprehension as a ball of light converged in the emperor's left hand. It achieved a size twice that of a man's fist before launching skyward. Few people have ever seen the sky ripple, and fewer still that were actively sober at the time. 

The two soldiers joined the ranks of that few. 

A hole formed in the sky, and ripples spread out from it, blurring and distorting the stars and moon with their passage. They rippled more when the sky divulged its contents, and a dragon glided forward into the mortal world. 

It was a streamlined creature, midnight blue and splotched with pale green along its arms and legs. Long arms tipped with three-clawed hands hung at its sides as it hovered at Fou-Lu's back, head lowered to watch the two humans frozen in terror before it. The twin bony protrusions at its elbows looked like threatening blades as the dragon glowered darkly at the mortals. The two knobs of bone over its eyes set off its sharp muzzle and elaborate flat tail, which hung limply in the air. It was waiting…

"This be a dragon." His face grew serious, rather than amused, and he lost his mocking air. He gestured to the dragon, keeping his inscrutable gaze centered on the humans as he held out his hand. "A dragon 'tis a force of nature unto itself. Thou mayest as well seek to fight a volcano or the very earth itself! Dragons doth give birth to thy kind, grant thee life, and verily taketh it away. They art to thee as thee art to an insect." Fou-Lu drew back his hand, letting it fall to his side. 

As he withdrew his hand the dragon crouched in the air, clutching its narrow head with its forearms. Then, it screamed, arching its back as it sprouted wings. They were translucent pink, sharp edged and angular. With a tensing of muscles it pumped the newly grown appendages. It gained several feet of height, then settled into an even rhythm that kept it suspended over their heads. 

"They art gods." Fou-Lu said. He paused for a long time, and then said with deceptive softness and a hard glitter in his golden eyes, "…Wouldst thou fight a god?"

The dragon hung silhouetted against the moon for a moment's time before it vanished from sight. Fou-Lu watched a while longer before looking back down at the earth. The ground was scorched and burnt, as if some great explosion had taken place but moments before.

"'Tis as I thought," Fou-Lu said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "It is not the nature of mortals to change their ways…" He let his voice trail off, then proceeded down the slope the human guards had blocked. At the base of the ramp the road led off in two directions. A glance down the right-hand way proved it blocked with rubble, so the left way was what he took.  
The road eventually turned to a path, and then that to merely a hunter's trail that wove in and out of the bushes and trees. It led up to a little hill, where another fork in the road offered itself. The right path again proved worthless, this time ending in a meadow of purple flowers that went absolutely nowhere. To the right, there was a path leading up the hill. The incline was gradual, but it was lined with stinging plants that were easy to overlook and step in.

He was mostly up the hill, and past most of the plants, when he stopped. There was a man kneeling in the center of the path. It was difficult to see much of him, as only the top of his mostly-bald head was visible. From what could be viewed, the man was small, fat, and quite definitely on the unattractive side.

"Pardon my presumption, but I believe you are the God Emperor Fou-Lu…yes?" the small man said. Fou-Lu, finding the man's voice offensive to his ears, said nothing. "I have been expecting you…ever since I saw the flames rising from the wood where I had placed my soldiers on watch."

This prompted a reaction. Fou-Lu nodded slowly, looking thoughtful as wheels started to turn in his head. "Thou sayest thou wert waiting for us? Thou knowest of us and what we are, then?" 

"Yes, Your Majesty," the man said, standing up. Fou-Lu's first impression proved correct. The man was short, fat and ugly. His nose alone would have disqualified him from any beauty contest anywhere. "You are the first Emperor, Fou-Lu, who founded our great Fou Empire."

"And knowing this," Fou-Lu demanded, his anger growing visible. "Thou wouldst greet us with malice in thine heart and thine blade in hand?" _If thou thinkest thou canst thus insult us and keep thy life…we fearest we must prove thy error…_

"I'm afraid…times have changed, Your Majesty……" With that, the harmless looking old man called up a monster.

Its roar shook the hillside as Fou-Lu turned to face it, willing his sword into being. The blade that rested like an old friend in his left hand was an extension of his will, and as thus he could dismiss or call it up at any time. 

The monster was red with twin tusks, and a multitude of horns lined its head, shoulders, and back. A pair of nonfunctional wings stuck out of its back like tiny sails, and the hunched brute kept most of its weight resting on its knuckles and the base of its tail. It had a vaguely humanoid face, although it was ugly enough that it made even its summoner look attractive. It was also, without a doubt, of the fire alignment. 

Fou-Lu grunted as the creature reached out with a flaming fist and swiped him with its claws. As large as it was, it knocked him back a good ways, and did a good deal of damage. Fou-Lu dismissed notions of fighting the monster with only his sword and willed the blade out of being. With that, he changed forms.  
He felt his feet leave the ground and the world went blindingly pale as a ball of light encased him. The dragon felt his clothes vanish to wherever they went when he changed, and the skin on his legs and forearms turn coarse, tiny blue scales bursting out through his skin. Claws pushed themselves out of the tips of his fingers, and his backbone stretched and elongated into a snake-like tail. A burning at his temples signaled the growth of his horns. His feet twisted and changed to gripping talons easily capable of crushing bone. The skin of his back split and twin wings unfolded themselves, stretching to an eight-foot wing span. Fou-Lu's face was the only thing that remained the same, though it was now adorned with twin streaks of blue and his teeth were somewhat sharper than before. 

The battle did not take long. In his transformed shape, the monster's claws could barely touch Fou-Lu, and his scales insulated him from its fiery breath. It only took several strikes to bring the beast to its knees, and a blast of ice to finish it off. 

Fou-Lu's natural form returned as his adversary perished. The emperor turned his gaze to the old fool who had summoned up the monster and he walked forward toward him, fully intent on doing the idiot harm. However, the battle had taken a greater toll than expected, and he stumbled, before regaining his balance.

"You appear tired, Majesty," the human said. "It is to be expected, I suppose. You have just awoken from a long, long sleep, and you are not exactly…complete, are you?"

__

So thou knowest of that, then… the emperor thought, turning at the tramp of feet to find himself surrounded. Soldiers carrying spears and crossbows blocked the way he had come, and a similar troop had advanced behind the summoner. He turned back to look at their leader. "T'would appear thou dost mean not to fulfill thine duty, as thou art called upon to do by our promise?" _They darest withsay me?_

The mortal bowed his head. "Alas, it is as you say, my lord. For now, we would have you sleep once more."

__

Mortals. Impudent creatures, I had forgotten the depths of their foolishness… He smiled, again amazed at ridiculousness of it all. "I wouldst call thee foolish…but thou art mortal." _That alone ought expain all folly…_ "Thou cannot go against thy nature, no more than a fish could walketh upon the firmament. Still…" Fou-Lu's expression grew angered, his golden eyes narrowing under a fringe of white hair. "Thou wilt find that our promises art not easily broken…" The dragon turned and, before the mortals could react, jumped up the slope. Out of reach of the humans, and on a higher level of the hill, he continued speaking. "Return then to thine master and tell him our words!" Keeping his eyes on the mortals below, the First Emperor backed away slowly, then vanished into the shadows.

"Trying to buy time, are you, Majesty?" the mortal summoner said to himself, before turning to look at the soldiers around him. "Set fire to the trees. We must stop him before he recovers his full strength."

The archers marched out to the center of the path, fire-arrows nocked to their bows, and let loose a stinging volley to the forest above. Flames immediately spread from where the arrows feel in bushes and trees, and the archers reloaded and fired again…and again…

Up above, running along the trail he had uncovered, Fou-Lu paused as the forest around him burst into flames and several arrows narrowly missed his head. "They wouldst use fire against us? Indeed, planned well have they." 

He sped up his departure. The dragon found the heat of the flames uncomfortable, and knew in his present state they could well be threatening. He started to take the path to the right, but a burning tree groaned, split, and fell across the path, effectively blocking it. Left with no choice, Fou-Lu took the left way, which lead to a rickety old bridge. He walked out onto it, testing the old slats carefully. It would be ironic to escape death by fire only to fall to his doom because of a misstep. When he reached the center of the bridge, he stopped, his plans at escape thwarted again. The mortal summoner and a pair of spearmen blocked the far side of the bridge, weapons leveled at him. On the side he had just left, a group of archers had him in their sights. He turned to look at them, then gazed into the distance, before slowly returning his gaze to the summoner.

"As I recall," the mortal said. "Your Majesty has a strong affinity to water…yes?" When Fou-Lu stayed silent the mortal continued. "And, with your powers not fully returned…it is unlikely that you will survive battle with my creations in this raging fire."

Fou-Lu's emotions wavered between fury and mirth, and he finally settled on the latter, amused by both the human's impudence and his own folly. "We…wouldst know thy name, oh cunning one…"

"Yom, General of the Fou-Lu Imperial Army, at your service," the mortal said. Suddenly, a giant hand of flame flickered into being and struck out at the emperor, catching him across the chest and side, and utterly destroying the small bridge. 

Injured and denied purchase, Fou-Lu plunged into the depths below, having time to cry out but once before he was lost from view.   
General Yom turned, looking at his troops. "…I don't want to take any chances," the man said. "Find the body."


	3. Chapter 2 Pointless Efforts

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Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Two

Pointless Efforts

First, there was pain, unbearable and fervid. Then a vague notion of being lifted and carried in strong arms. After that, sweet oblivion.

When Fou-Lu first regained consciousness he found himself stretched out on an uncomfortably hard surface. There was a set of coarse blankets under him and a pillow at his head. They did little to soften the wooden floor, but it was obvious some attempt had been made to make him comfortable. The feeling of air against his skin alerted him to his shirtlessness, though he had enough bandages across his chest that a shirt wasn't really necessary, in any case. 

Sitting up was painful, but he managed. He turned his head away from the blank wall facing him and found himself looking out into the main room of a small cottage. The floor (except for that of the section that had been made up as a bed) was dirt, the walls stone. Everything else was wooden, and it was all hardily serviceable. There was a small table at the center of the room, a stove on the wall to the right of the door, and woodpiles were stacked haphazardly around the room. The room was fairly devoid of trinkets, though several knives and a set of carver's tools were against the far wall. On the small table was a roll of bandages, a water skin, and the rest of Fou-Lu's clothes.

If sitting up had been bad, standing was worse. His side and chest felt like they were on fire, and he grew dizzyingly lightheaded as he walked over to the table. He steadied himself against it as he slipped his undershirt over his head. It was silk, so it didn't chaff or rub against the bandages, which was a relief. His other shirt went over it, and he bent rather laboriously to put on his shoes. The clothes had been mended carefully by a steady hand, though some of the scorch marks were still there. His gloves went on last, and, feeling more prepared to face the world even in his weakened state, Fou-Lu made his way over to the door and outside.

The emperor blinked in the sun, feeling suddenly dizzy. It was bright, the sunlight shining dully off sheets of rock and shale. Mountaintops could be seen in the distance, silhouetted against the blue sky. The mountain on which he presently stood provided a good view of the surrounding area, which was unfamiliar to his eye. 

"You're awake, eh?"

Fou-Lu turned his head slowly to look for the source of the voice. It had come from a large, bearded human seated on a tree stump with an axe across his knees. A large woodpile was at his side, logs split neatly into a more manageable size.

"How do you feel? You were asleep for a long time, you know," the man commented, unperturbed by the lack of reply. He had thick brown hair and tan skin, and, from the look of him, spent most of his time outdoors. "You must be wondering where you are. My name is Bunyan. I live here, in the Zhinga Mountains."  
Fou-Lu looked at him and turned the rest of his body to face Bunyan, raising a brow in question. He knew of the Zhinga Mountains, though they looked little as they had hundreds of years before. However, the Zhinga Mountain Range was a good ways south of where he knew his tomb to be.

"I found you a few days age, collapsed down by the river. I brought you here, and dressed your wounds," the woodsman explained, getting up off his stump and laying his axe aside. He was watching the dragon with apparent concern.

_Ah. 'Twas the river that carried us hither_. The First Emperor chuckled. _Betrayed by humans, only to receive another's aid…verily, they art confusing creatures. Perhaps this one mayest be trusted…but mayhap not…_

"Then w…" he stopped mid phrase and frowned, continuing after a moment, concentrating as he tried to imitate the human's manner of speech. "I am in your debt…Bunyan, yes?"

"No need to thank me," the woodsman said as Fou-Lu started walking past. Bunyan frowned and continued, "More importantly, are you alright?"

_I needst make mine way to Chedo, _the emperor thought tiredly_…I hath not time for this weakness… _His chest seemed to have constricted itself around his lungs, hindering his breathing. And the bandages…to his wounded body they felt too tight, as if they harmed rather than helped, and his hands itched to rip them off and ease the pressure on his chest.

"Don't push yourself so hard," Bunyan exclaimed as Fou-Lu kept going, ignoring his dizzy light-headedness and the burn throughout his body. "I've seen men die from burns as bad as yours."

_I be not a man, mortal,_ the dragon wanted to say, but at that point his legs gave out on him and he stumbled. The traitorous appendages refused to obey him when he attempted to rise. As his body lay facedown in the dirt, Fou-Lu felt bitter amusement at his own predicament. So weak he couldn't even walk…_Mine own body hath betrayed me…_

Strong hands lifted him from the ground. "Overdid it a bit there, I'd say," Bunyan commented sympathetically as he helped his charge back inside. The emperor had to submit to being carried, as he himself was, for the moment, helpless.

Soon the First Emperor was sitting back on the makeshift bed, wearing once again only pants and bandages. This time, however, he was in a great deal more pain than when he had first awoken. Bunyan sat in a chair a ways away, drinking from the water skin. "You should rest some more," he suggested kindly, obviously feeling some kind of sympathy for the dragon-god's plight. "Unless, of course, you've got someplace to go…"   
"Fou-Lu," the dragon said, staring at the wall, holding his burnt side. It didn't do anything to alleviate the pain, but he did it anyway. Bunyan looked at him questioningly, and Fou-Lu woodenly turned to meet his brown gaze. "Mine name," the emperor explained, wishing he had thought of a false title to use. He was tired, so tired…

"Fou-Lu, you say?" the man looked surprised, then intrigued. "That's interesting…same name as the First Emperor, eh?"

Fou-Lu went back to staring at the wall.

Bunyan looked up from his work as Fou-Lu walked out of the hut, attired in his usual clothing and with certainly more of a spring in his step. "Well, you're looking a lot better," the human approved from where he sat on his log. He had been splitting rails, but he put down his tools to greet the other.

"Thank you for your caring ministrations, Bunyan," Fou-Lu intoned formally, trying hard to sound like he hadn't been born hundreds of years ago. The days of listening to Bunyan talk had helped, and he felt he was getting pretty good at it. "The time has come for me to quit this place." He walked past Bunyan towards the downhill path off the mountain, but the woodsman's voice stopped him.

"Fou-Lu…"

The emperor turned his body halfway to look at Bunyan, taking in the human's appearance. The man was sweaty and red-faced from hard work, and he had the start of a nasty sunburn about his nose. He looked unusually serious as he met Fou-Lu's gaze.

"Looks like you're in a hurry over something," the forester stated bluntly. Fou-Lu's posture took on a slightly defensive aspect. "I don't need to know, but tell me this." There was a pause before he continued his line of thought. "You were on the run from someone, weren't you? Does this mean there's going to be another war?"

Fou-Lu started to shake his head, but found he could not fully deny the man's assessment of things. He let his gaze drop.

"I did my time," Bunyan said frankly, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. His voice was honesty, and it seemed to demand answers. "I've seen my share of fights. Something tells me that there's a big one brewing."

Turning fully to face Bunyan, Fou-Lu forgot for a moment to mind his words, and blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. "Thou…wert a soldier?" It was surprising. Somehow the man had seemed too peaceful to have been a fighter. Also, the gentleness Fou-Lu had seen while being healed at his hands did not fit that of a warrior.

Bunyan looked surprised, then curious. Fou-Lu wondered at the thoughts that were going through the mortal's head. "Yeah…I was." He seemed less than proud of the fact. "Maybe it's just because I'm older now, but when I look back on it now, it all seems so pointless." Bunyan shook his head slowly, then shrugged.

_Pointless. 'Tis a good word for it. Life 'tis pointless…war 'tis pointless…and death…'tis most of all…_ The emperor felt his lips curve in a slight smile at his own pessimism.

"I mean, sure, maybe when the First Emperor started it, that war had some kind of purpose, but it went on so long, it was as if the war itself became the purpose," the man rambled, seeming lost in thought. "None of us knew what we were even fighting for. The war took on a life of its own."

Fou-Lu turned away, chuckling, his face thoughtful. "The mortals…they understand not." _Hath any mortal, anywhere, understood? Nay, 'tis we, the gods, that must needs watch the folly that 'tis life, and striveth to give it meaning…A bitter draught is godhood, for one's charges embraceth their own destruction in spite of those who wouldst save them…_

The questioning look Bunyan sent him made him realize he had spoken aloud. Fou-Lu shook his head to clear it, before addressing his host. "Forgive me…I merely spoke aloud mine thoughts. Farewell."

The woodsman acknowledged the goodbye, but added, "I don't know where you be heading, but safe journey to you." 

Fou-Lu nodded one last time, then turned and descended the cliff that the house was perched upon. The path down the mountain was rocky and jagged, though there was little danger of falling. Even as it fluctuated back and forth it remained wide enough for several men to walk abreast. It was a barren place, although when one looked hard enough traces of life could be seen. Lichens grew in among the rock, and a variety of rodents played under boulder outcroppings.

When he was almost down the mountain, Fou-Lu found he wasn't the only one using the pathway. 

"How…" the dragon exclaimed, as the human Yom and six soldiers walked forward to hinder his route. "By what means didst thou find us?"

Yom (for whom Fou-Lu had developed an active dislike) bowed his head, unintentionally pointing the bald shiny spot in Fou-Lu's direction. "Even if Your Majesty is still not fully recovered…you are still a god, one of the Endless." The small man straightened back up, daring to look Fou-Lu in the eye. "Even if you do not avail yourself of your powers, the act of simply speaking your own name," Yom said with relish, delighting in his own cleverness. "Creates a ripple in the world large enough that those sensitive to such things can sense your presence immediately."

The general seemed rather disappointed he had failed to get a rise out of Fou-Lu, who was shaking his head and smiling. "T'would appear," the god-emperor stated calmly, "That thou wouldst not have us enter the Capital by any persuasion."

Gesturing widely with his arms, Yom acknowledged Fou-Lu's statement, "Indeed. Time has not blunted My Lord's perceptions." The little man smiled, baring blocky yellow teeth, as the soldiers behind him looked up and backed away. 

Fou-Lu followed their gaze, then quickly changed form as a huge bird dropped down out of the sky.

It was an owl, with blue wings decorated with green dots and half-moons. Its tail was pink and tipped with emerald. Pink-rimmed eyes sat in a white face elaborately made-up with a variety of colors. In between those eyes was a jewel, glittering with an inner fire. 

The bird tore at the ground with its huge talons and let a screech loose from its hooked beak. Fou-Lu answered it with a cry of his own as he lost his human shape and turned to a creature half dragon.

The sight of its prey suddenly changing forms did not intimidate the owl. Its head did one total revolution around its neck, before blasting him with a stream of pink fire. The First Emperor managed to dodge most of the blasts, but one caught him in the shoulder, providing him with a source of extreme pain. After the first hit, that was the only one the bird got in before Fou-Lu pounded it into submission with a hail of knife-like shards of ice. When the bird's body was only so much mangled meat, Fou-Lu ended the hailstorm and turned back to a human, exhausted from the effort.

Yom looked impressed, but was yet to be intimidated. "I should have known that toppling Your Majesty would not be so easily achieved. I had not realized your powers had returned to such an extent."

Fou-Lu was breathing heavily from the fight, but managed to regain his composure. He looked contemptuously in the human's direction. "While 'tis true that we have recovered but a portion of our power…" He shook his head slowly, maintaining eye contact. He chided, "Thou should knowest that thee, a mere mortal, poseth no danger to us. One such as I cannot," he said softly, with an edge of steel hidden under the deceptively gentle tone. "Be vanquished by one such as thee."

"Perhaps," Yom admitted, his gaze going to the cliff above them, where another of the giant owls had just landed. The summoner regarded it with the fond look of a parent to its offspring. Fou-Lu followed his gaze, eyes hardening as he saw the giant bird. "The creature which Your Majesty just defeated is but one of many I command."

Having raised his gaze to examine the owl, Fou-Lu looked back down at Yom, his face a blank mask. 

"Furthermore," the summoner said, with definite smugness. It was obvious he believed he was the one holding all the cards, so to speak. "Unless I am mistaken, I believe that your other half is but recently born, yes?" The soldiers advanced in front of Yom, their weapons out and shining in the sunlight. "Even if he should be a god such as yourself, he would be somewhat…easier for us to deal with, would he not?"

"Verily," Fou-Lu agreed, giving somewhat of a shrug and nod. "Though I wouldst fane admit it, thou speakest truly. Mine path then is clear. I must hasten to the capital ere thou findeth him!" With that, the emperor jumped from the cliff, turning into a dragon on the way…the same dragon that had destroyed the two watchmen so many days earlier. His wings moving at a speed a hummingbird would envy, Fou-Lu flew to the east, skimming over the canopy of the forest below. Trees snatched at his belly, and he was forced to gain altitude to avoid collision.

"Blast! Already he has enough power to fly!" Yom cursed, calling his owl down from the cliff top. The animal cocked its head at him, waiting patiently for directions. "After him! Don't let him escape!" 

Obeying its master, the owl flew after Fou-Lu on wide wings. The dragon that was the first emperor sped its flight as it heard the pumping of huge wings above it. Avoiding its snatching talons proved easy for the sleek reptile, so the bird utilized its other weapon. A dozens thin beams of flame were shot off in quick succession. As dragon dodged them the flames ate into the forest canopy, spreading streaks of destruction that burnt ancient giants to the ground and left brown tracks across the peaceful woods. Having avoided all the prior blasts of flame, it was the last that hit its target.

The lance of flame seared through toughened scales and thick skin. Faltering with a screech, the dragon was suddenly vulnerable to the owl, which dived immediately. The dragon flew up to escape the stooping bird, but the raptor followed, slamming into him repeatedly in the air and rending him with its talons. Agony smashed through his body, but he flew higher, trying to escape the vengeful avis. Finally, he could fly no longer, and fell from the air, towards the forest below…


	4. Chapter 3 Painful Reunions

****

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Three

Painful Reunions

Groaning, Fou-Lu swam slowly back to consciousness. He could not think for the pounding in his head, and the agony that wracked every inch in his body. It felt as though every inch of skin on his body had been stripped off, or a great beast had chewed him up before spitting him out again. His mangled senses told him he was sprawled on his back and the smell of warm earth and loam suggested he lay on the floor of a forest. His eyes seemed to have fused shut. Attempting to open them only gave him more of a headache.

He tried to sit up, but it caused him such pain that he fell back, moaning and clawing at the dirt underneath him. He felt his body convulse before it lay panting again. It wasn't long before he lost consciousness again, the sound of his heartbeat and ragged breathing thundering in his ears.

This time when he woke, the pain was less, and he managed to blearily open his eyes. Above his head, tree branches mingled and interlocked, almost blocking out the blue sky above. The amount of time that had passed since he first woke couldn't be determined, but it was certainly much more than a day. Now, most of the pain had diminished to a dull throbbing, and he actually managed to sit up without screaming or killing himself. 

He took stock of himself, first. For all practical purposes, he was naked, as his clothes were in such shreds that they didn't even cover the essentials. Thus, every external wound he had received was clearly visible, and he shuddered at the sheer amount of damage that had been done to his poor body. 

Deep burns covered his upper body with blisters and blackened skin. In addition, bloody gouges had been carved into legs and sides, and bruises had blossomed on the patches of skin still intact. Everything was on its way to healing, so it had obviously been longer than he had thought. However, internal injuries remained. A quick inventory found his right arm dislocated at the shoulder, and the bone snapped further on down. Ribs on both sides of his body had snapped and shattered, and one of his feet was swollen and distorted, fragile bones smashed from the fall. That was the worst of things, though the rest of his bones felt bruised and battered.

While he had managed to inspect his own wounds, he found his eyes had trouble focusing on things farther away. The world was a large and colorful blur, and Fou-Lu wondered exactly how hard he had hit his head. Attempts to refocus his eyes sent stabbing pain through the front of his head, effectively discouraging him from trying again. 

Dizzy, he closed his eyes, trying to dispel the pounding in his head. Lying back on the ground, he fell into a much-needed sleep. 

Awake again, and another day seemed to have gone by. The ache in his head had receded, and the dragon-god no longer saw the world through a blur of opaque glass. Though he wasn't willing to try standing any time soon, sitting up proved easier than it had last.

Now that his eyes had chosen to cooperate, Fou-Lu could get his first glimpse of his surroundings. There were trees all about him, massive monstrosities gnarled with age and weather. Behind him, they clung together to form an impervious tangle of branches and roots. In front of him, however, the thick forest thinned out slightly, and in between the broad trunks of two forest giants a small structure could be seen. 

Fou-Lu gasped, and lurched to his feet, shuddering as his shattered extremity protested violently. He stumbled forward on weak legs, eyes tracing up and down the little building.

Vines and mosses had covered every inch of its surface, and almost none of the original stone could be seen. Graceful arches around a central building formed a circular design, and there was a sense of airy lightness. 

Unable to support himself properly, the first emperor staggered towards the small temple, his wounds forcing him to stop and rest after every few steps. Limping, he eventually reached it, and fell to his knees in front of the unbroken wall of the inner building. Panting heavily, his bangs damp with sweat, he planted his left hand on the floor and rested his weight on it. Fou-Lu closed his eyes, shivering. Warm liquid ran down his chest, and the emperor realized he had ripped open several of his wounds with his movement. Coughing slightly, a drop of blood oozing from between his pale lips, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against the wall. Fou-Lu muttered a phrase and the corners of his mouth tilted upward in a faint smile as a section of the wall disintegrated. While he would have entered immediately, his energy for the moment was spent, and he rested there, leaned up against the cool stone surface.

As he rested his tired body, he thought. _'Tis fortuitous that mine body wouldst come to rest here, rather than in other parts…mayhap 'tis fate…if fate hath any affect over gods…_Sitting back up, he brushed his hand over the stonework he had erected so many centuries ago. His golden eyes examined the deterioration of the wall solemnly. _'Tis sad to see it worn and faded…yet…'tis strangely suitable, _he thought, fondly eyeing the vines that had worked their way into cracks in the stone. _She…wouldth have found it pleasing… _

Having regained a measure of his strength, Fou-Lu struggled back onto his feet, swaying raggedly. He kept one hand on the wall to balance himself as he made his way slowly to the entrance to the vault that housed the body of his beloved. He paused, leaning against the doorframe, before making his way inside. 

Within, the airy ceiling echoed his footfalls and harsh breaths, disturbing the silence that had settled over the small room for centuries. The little shrine was empty of decoration, but in its plainness seemed somehow more beautiful. The vacuum led eyes back to the body that stood suspended in a shield of magical energy, protected till the day she would awaken.

_Beautiful one…_

Her head was bowed, her arms crossed modestly under her breasts. Soft pink lips were pursed, as if awaiting the kiss of an enchanted lover. The arch of her delicate nose cast a shadow across her beautiful face. Her eyes were closed, long lashes brushing against wan cheeks. She was naked, her silver hair falling in rivulets over her back and shoulders and pooling at the back of her knees. Bare as she was, the scars on her chest and abdomen could be clearly seen. Thick ribbons of scar tissue ran along her stomach and trailed up over her full breasts, while even deeper scars lined her hips and thighs. Smaller marks lined her legs and arms, giving her a mottled look. Scars aside, she was blemishless, not a mole or freckle marring her uniform skin.

It was a definite improvement from when he had last seen her, the emperor admitted, walking slowly and uncertainly to stand in front of her. Then, the pale skin that encased her perfect limbs had been scorched and peeling, and in some places nonexistent. He remembered well holding her ruined body in his arms as the last awareness left it. Fou-Lu, growing dizzy from standing so long, closed his eyes and shuddered, remembering. _Such suffering thou hast seen…Better thou had over bided me than undergone such tormentry. Where doth thy spirit wandereth, lorn one, while thy body surrenders to its heaviness?_

He opened his eyes to the sound of dripping. The wounds he had torn open and that presently leeched his life force were bleeding still, and a pool of blood was gathering beneath him. Nausea and pain overwhelmed him, and he felt himself start to collapse. He would have regained his feet, but he hit his right shoulder unintentionally, and the pain dropped him where he stood.

When his legs gave way on him, he fully expected to strike against the shield he had erected so many years ago around his sleeping love and to slide to the jade-paved floor. There, he imagined, blackness would take him, perhaps forever. If so, it would be a fitting place to rest, at the feet of the only female he had ever loved.

Instead of cold stones, his fall was broken by warm arms and a sweet voice he had thought laid to rest for all time. "Fou-Lu?" The tone was soft and full of wonder, and the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

It took the last dregs of his strength to raise his head and open his eyes. "Yahla," he croaked, fighting his rebellious body only long enough to meet her gaze. Then the expected fog caught him in its grasp, and he was drowning in a sea of blessedly pain-free darkness.

Yahla supported the weight of his body as it bore them both to the ground. Before they both ended up on the floor, she exerted more of her strength to halt the fall. The god-emperor wasn't that heavy, once she remembered she had muscles and knew how to use them. She ended up half standing, half kneeling, her lover in her arms and confusion in her mind. 

Her last memories were of him. Fou-Lu, perfect, aloof, beautiful. Composed. Always composed, was Fou-Lu. Almost always, anyhow.

They had been putting down a rebellion, of sorts. Only a handful remained to resist, after the initial skirmish, but they retained the gun, an energy weapon large enough that it looked as though a score of horses would be needed to tow it.

It shouldn't have been a threat. It could incinerate large masses of soldiers each time it fired, but they were mortals. Yahla and Fou-Lu were of the Endless. Were it fired at them once, it would not harm them. Fou-Lu had assured Yahla of that when she had questioned the wisdom of accompanying the army to put down the insurrection. While multiple shots were a possible danger, the gun was slow to fire or aim.

It is amazing (and somewhat depressing) how many military geniuses die because the event that is impossible is the one that happens.

As it was and as it were, the gun that the Imperial troops had made their prime target was destroyed by the rebels themselves. The energy from the explosion, enough to power hundreds of shots from the gun, had been channeled into a ball about the size of a man's head by a rebel magician. Then the crackling, flaming ball of energy had been hurled, like a giant bullet, at the God-Emperor Fou-Lu.

He had been composed even then, turning to meet death with his head held high, his shoulders back, and his face a mask. Waiting. Waiting even as the globe grew closer and it became clear it was all flame, the bane of a water-aligned dragon.

Yahla remembered well the expression that came when the mask finally broke, the composure shattering, when Yahla had thrown herself forward to take the blast meant for him. She had seen his face, then a blast of fiery agony ushered in darkness. She had felt hands catch her burnt and broken body, and heard his voice asking (not pleading nor begging, in Yahla's opinion Fou-Lu didn't know how) her to stay with him.

Her memories ended there, a transition as sharp as the cut of a knife. One moment she was in one place, the next something had fallen against her and she had caught it on instinct. The sudden change had left her fumbling for words and answers, and she had only been able to gasp out the name of the man in her arms_. Fou-Lu…mine beloved lord_

The moment flashed to her head as she lowered her beloved to the ground and started to check the extent of his wounds. At the utterance of his name he had stirred, moving to look at her as if it was the hardest thing in the world to do. His beautiful golden eyes had been red-rimmed and bloodshot, and as he croaked her name is voice was a mockery of the one once she had know. And then, for the first time that Yahla had ever seen, he had fainted. 

To her, it was a strange reversal of roles. Last, it had been him that cradled her against his chest, doing his best to heal her violent wounds.

"Ai, Fou-Lu," she murmured, laying his body out flat on the ground. She brushed a lock of bloody hair out of his eyes. "How hast thou thusly fallen? Wouldst that I knew…" She touched his bleeding wounds and spoke a simple healing spell, frowning when her power responded but weakly. The bleeding stopped, but the wounds stayed, and Yahla looked down at her hands as if they had betrayed her. An attempt to coax forth her reluctant magic proved futile. "'Tis as if mine powers have been drained…" the dragoness whispered, disturbed immensely by the turn of events. As Fou-Lu was of water, she was of life and, in accordance, death. She could, at her finest, grant life, as well as whither it with a touch. She could control most lifely functions, healing included. It should have been easy for her to speed the healing process of her love's wounds, as serious as they were.

Another attempt served only to irritate her. Pale lips thinning, golden eyes narrowing, she dropped her semblance of humanity. 

Yahla knew Fou-Lu had to expend energy to maintain his half- or full-dragon form, and it was easier for him to hold the form of a mortal. He was but half a god, however, while she was a complete one, albeit a flawed one. For her, maintaining human form was what was draining. She preferred to slip into half-dragon form, where she had greatest access to her powers. Because of her…flaw, Yahla could not ascend to full dragon form.

A greenish tint descended upon her skin, while her forearms, hips, and legs grew scales of a deeper emerald. The scales at her hands and feet were mottled with brown. The bones of her feet reshaped themselves, as toe and fingernails were shaping into talons. Powerful wings sprouted along her shoulder blades, fading to tan about the tips. A slender tail decorated her backside, ridged with a line of heavy scales that continued up the back of her spine. Front teeth had grown significantly sharper, though they retained much of their original size.

It was easier to use her power in what she considered her natural form. Now, however, as she put her clawed hands back on Fou-Lu's body, she was forced to drag her powers out into the open and whack it a couple times before it acknowledged her control, so to speak. At last Yahla managed to produce a satisfactory level of power, a glow settling over her slender hands. A bead if sweat worked its way into her eyes and she bit her lip, struggling to keep up the stream of energy. Torn flesh knitted itself before her eyes, moving into the advanced stages of healing as she watched. Scabs formed over the open wounds, and many lost the red look of infection. Areas of burn skin remained red, but had started to regrow. 

Yahla sagged to the ground next to her lover's body, exhausted by something that normally would have been effortless. "Mine powers," she thought aloud. "What hast happened to me?"

Fou-Lu certainly looked better, though. Yahla hadn't the energy to much more. Manually, she popped his dislocated arm back into place. _I wouldst giveth much to have a length of bandages and a splint_. Lacking anything to bind his broken ribs, the dragoness was forced to ignore them and focused on his other wounds. Dismayingly, she found there wasn't much she could do about them without her magic, as she had no medical supplies.

Yahla stood back up, too tired to change forms again. Fou-Lu would not wake for some time, and she felt it safe to get her bearings. A glance about located the door, which shed a beam of light into the shadowy room. Moving cautiously, the tip of her tail trailing on the ground after her, she stepped warily outside. Her pupils dilated at the increase in brightness. It wasn't actually that much brighter, the sunlight blocked by branches overhead. Yahla examined the circle of overlapping stone arches that surrounded the center building, walking through them to get a better view of the forest around her.

The goddess's gaze trailed up networks of roots to broad tree trunks that split and separated into leafy boughs above. She smiled. Even drained and tired the life around her reached out to touch her. The various life forces of the forest dwellers beckoned. Here was power.

The dragon goddess went to her knees next to a young sapling that had sprouted near the roots of an old giant. Smiling at the youthful tree, feeling the life course through its veins, she asked, "Little one, wilt thou?" Running a hand over its branches, she felt the tree's acceptance and laughed lightly. "Thank thee, gentle friend." Eyes closed, and she gripped the seedling's trunk and began to drain its life force. Little was taken, not enough to harm the tree. Patting a leaf, she repeated the process with other trees, singling out the youngest and healthiest. Soon, she had regained her usual level of power, though in her present tiredness she could not hold as much as foreseen.

Returning to the inner building where Fou-Lu lay, the dragoness found the First Emperor just as she had left him. She knelt, smoothly scaled knees uncomfortable against the hard stone. While it was not necessary, it was easier if she had contact with her subject.

Healing came easily to her revitalized hands, and she knitted Fou-Lu's broken arm and repaired the damage to his ribs. Other internal wounds melted away under her touch, the burns also fading and leaving fresh new skin behind. After she had healed him of all his wounds, she sat back, tired once more. There would be scars, of course (even she could not totally undo the damage that had been done.)

It was a lost and lonely dragoness that lay down at her lover's side. When she noticed the shivers that had started to wrack his frame she wrapped herself around him, pressing her naked skin to his in an attempt to give him her warmth. The shreds that remained of his clothes did little to keep out the cold, and Fou-Lu was presently wearing a vulnerable human form.

It was rather nice, holding his body to hers. Eyelids fluttered closed, her cheek resting against his chest. Sighing and snuggling deeper into her beloved's side, Yahla quickly fell asleep, still in half-dragon form.

He woke to the unexpected sensation of being free of pain. Burns that had eaten away at his skin no longer bothered him, and his breathing was no longer constricted by shattered ribs. However, there was a weight on top of him and, tired and weak, he started to push it off. He froze, his spent mind catching up to his body. He recognized the feel of feminine curves pressed against his skin, the weight of a head on his chest. Fou-Lu opened his eyes very slowly, fully expecting to find himself dreaming.

A halo of white hair ringed the exquisite face that lay sleeping against him. Pale green skin and the wing that had stretched to cover his side left no mistaking the sleeping female. _Yahla…_

Carefully, Fou-Lu lifted a hand, as if he expected her to vanish, and brushed it over her cheek. The goddess's skin was as soft as he had remembered, and he let his fingers caress the rest of her face, lingering at the curve of her lips.

Yahla's eyes opened and met his own. They gazed at each other for a moment, before Yahla rolled off of him and sat up, her hair falling around her. Fou-Lu, still feeling weak and weary, followed her lead. Another silence came before Fou-Lu broke it. "Yahla."

She met his gaze steadily. "I have many question, beloved. Mayhap thou wouldst know of the answers."

"Canst it not wait?" the emperor asked, still drinking in the sight of her. It had been far too long…

The lady smiled. "Verily."

Fou-Lu started to stand, wanting to go to her, but found himself at a disadvantage. "I wouldst move to kiss thee, but mine legs seemth not to bear mine weight," he confessed.

"Why, then I must needs come to thee," she said, soon making good her word. Returning to his side, she met his passionate kiss, her tail going to wrap about his legs. The kiss was a meeting of lips and tongues and teeth, passionate but controlled.

Eventually, they both had to breathe, and pulled back. Fou-Lu gazed into her eyes, a content smile playing about his lips. "Thou hast no knowledge of how long I have dreamt of thee naked in mine arms once more."

"Mayhap," she whispered. "I canst guess." She kissed him again, teasing him gently with her lips and tongue. He in turn started running his hand along the length of her body, making her lean into his touch. Tapering fingers lingered at her breasts and the line on her hips where scaled skin joined non-scaled. It was when they went lower that she pulled away, leaving a hurt and angry Fou-Lu behind.

"What is this? Doth thou find mine touch so displeasing?" Demanding, Fou-Lu glared at her, not quite able to conceal his hurt.

"Had I found the displeasing, husband," Yahla said tartly, "I wouldst not have kissed thee! Nor wouldst I have taken wedlock with thee therebefore!"

"Very well," Fou-Lu said, appearing somewhat mollified. Yahla sighed. She had not intended to hurt her husband's pride. "Why then doth thou turnest away, seemingly in distaste?"

"I do not scorn thee, mine lord. The time is not right for us to take our pleasure. Questions need be answered." She flashed a smile at him. "Then, we mayest frolic as we wish."

"Thou speakest truth, though I wouldst 'twas not so." He sighed, then looked back at her with a slender brow raised. "What is thy query?"

"Mayhap 'twould be best were thou to speakest of that which ensued after I took thy peril for mine own," Yahla suggested. "I recall naught."

Fou-Lu grimaced_. I wish not draw to memory that troubled time. Yet, 'tis for her benefit…_ "When thou wert strucken down, thy life slackened before mine eyes. Thy wounds wert such that thou wert unable even to shift unto thy preferred form." He touched her scaled arm as if in emphasis. "In spite of mine efforts, thou passed into a deep sleep and attempts to wake or heal thee proved in vain. 'Twas the belief that thy wounds wouldst heal o'er the passage of years, therefor thy body was entombed 'til it wakened anew. Now, thou hast quickened. I wouldst assume thou hast healed as much as is possible."

"And how was it that thou camest here in such distress?" she asked, drumming her claws on the floor as she watched him.

_We hast fallen by our own stupidity…_ "Mine overconfidence proved mine downfall," Fou-Lu explained, continuing as she raised a brow. "After thy fall, I carried thee off to mourn, through my laments ordering mine supporters to find the perpetrator of thine assault." After all, the rebellious group could never have gotten control of an energy weapon without outside support. "Their inquires led unto a conglomeration of peoples that titled itself the Alliance. In truth, their mortal minds hadst felt imperiled by mine powers, and had conspired to plan mine demise. Wrathful, I spent mine power to track down and destroy in utter the last of the insurgent sectors, before ordering mine soldiers to make war upon the Alliance, shouldth they refuse to yield those responsible. 'Twas these events that led into a foul affray, which endures unto this very time. Mischance then reared her loathly head, for I hadst used an excess of mine power to attempt revive thee, and the remnant was drained by the sundry efforts required to avenge thee. I gavest mine throne onto a mortal man, receiving his surety that he wouldth return it upon the proper time, as wouldst his sons. Though loath, I departed into slumber, accompanied by the twin guardians I hadst fashioned to console me after thy loss."

"Thou didst not believe I wouldst waken," Yahla stated, watching his face.   
"Verily. Thou art a goddess, thy body wouldst not die, but I knewth not if 'twould e'er quicken or if thy mind wouldth remain intact." He watched as Yahla looked away, her hand going to rub her stomach. Fou-Lu followed the motion, his eyes turning sad. _Painful memories that draweth to mind…_ "Sometimes I wouldst thou hadst allowed mine death, rather than near destroying thyself and sacrificing the life of our unborn child," the emperor whispered softly, remembering the bulge that had graced his wife's midsection before the disaster. He hoped it had died quickly, though he was unsure whether fetuses really felt pain. Yahla averted her eyes even farther, and Fou-Lu felt sorry he had mentioned it. 

"Thou art speaking to me now, so 'tis clear thou hast woken from thy slumber," Yahla asserted, changing the subject. "If thou wouldst be telling me of it…?"

He sighed. "Very well. Upon awakening, I gavest command to Won-Qu, one of mine two guardians, to watch o'er mine tomb. His brother, A-Tun, hath spent the years guarding the capital in mine absence. I foundest mine other half hath been born into the world, and I set mineself to find him upon regaining mine empire. Upon mine path to Chedo, a route of mortals waylaid me, in service of the currant emperor. He refused his duty, and ordered his servants to slay me and the other that is the Yorae dragon. A vile mortal called as Yom leadth the attempt, aided by his summon beasts. Of fire they wert, and mine powers wert yet unrecovered from mine long rest. The humans lit flame to the forest, forcing mine flight. Cleverly, they cornered me o'er a bridge and attacked, destroying the pathway and dealing damage unto mine form."

Yahla fingered an edge of his ragged clothes. "Then 'tis then that thou received these?"

The dragon shook his head. "Nay. 'Twas later." He continued the line of his story. "A mortal man foundth mine body, and nursed me to health. 'Twas many a day er I grew sufficiently sound to struggle onwards. Upon departing, the servants of the false emperor entoiled me once more, setting a massive avis down upon me. 'Twas aligned to fire, though it couldth not vanquish me. Learning of mine enemies plans to destroy mine other half, I ascended mine form and took to wing for Chedo. Another owl was sent in mine pursuit, and 'twas greater in the air than I, who hadst spent mine energy in the change. Burnt with its flame and with talons rended, I plummeted from the sky, losing mine dragon form in mind descent. 'Twas near thy resting place I fell, though I laid in agony many a day er I couldst find mine setting. When mine legs couldst support me, I dragged mine form within, only to collapse before thy form. Thou knowest of the rest."

"'Tis a long tale, and I retainst but a sole question." She nibbled at her knuckle before finally asking, "How long? What tract of years hast passed?"

"O'er five centuries…" he admitted finally, "Most of which I, too, hast spent unware of mine surroundings."

Silence. Yahla still looked startled. _Immortals changeth not o'er such a time, but both earth and the mortals upon it stayeth no the same…_ Fou-Lu mused, understanding the look that crossed her face fleetingly.

"There is little left the same, then," she whispered at last.

He nodded, looking pensive. "'Tis so…from mine prior encounters, e'en the way of speech hath shifted, though 'tis possible to comprehend."

Yahla sighed. "Humans art curious creatures. Always they must be changing. And 'tis we that needs adjust to follow…"

Humans change to better fit their changing planet. The Endless, invulnerable to the elements and powerful enough never to be lacking, reacted only to things that directly affected them, which usually was few. This planet, not theirs, did not bind them to its rules.

Fou-Lu put a hand on her arm in reassurance, then both froze at a sound outside.


	5. Chapter 4 Love, Blood, and Memories

****

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Four

Love, Blood, and Memories

"This is the last place we have to search, sir. Look, you can see where something hit the ground here," a voice was saying. Both dragons stood, glancing about.

"Very good," another voice said. Fou-Lu's eyes narrowed, and he quickly changed into his half-dragon form.

"_Yom_," Fou-Lu hissed, meeting Yahla's eyes. She, already a hybrid dragon, nodded, and the spark in her eyes was dangerous.

There were more voices, orders given, and the sound of tramping feet as soldiers approached. "As of this time they wilt be surrounding us." Still unrecovered, the effort to change had staggered him, and Yahla sent a bit of her energy his way. He straightened up immediately, and turned just in time to face Yom and several of his men as they entered the room.

The small mortal bowed. "Greetings, Your Majesty." The emperor glared daggers at him. "And who is your lovely companion?" The human's eye roamed over her slender limbs and lingered at her hips and the curve of her breasts. "Does she have a name?"

"Her name is Yahla, and she hath a tongue and knoweth the use of it!" Fou-Lu's wife snapped, her tail lashing. "Wert thou wise, thou wouldst speak directly unto her!"

Yom bowed again, before looking back at her lecherously, much as the soldiers behind him were doing. To Fou-Lu, it seemed as though every eye in the room was fixed solely on his wife. He started scowling at the interlopers.

"My apologies, Lady. I had thought you but a mere vision of loveliness created by the emperor to entertain himself." The man smiled unattractively. "Provided you do not interfere with my mission, perhaps we could get to know each other later, yes?"

Yahla's eyes glittered angrily, but she smiled and ran a hand over the exposed curve of her hip before resting it splayed on her thigh. Her other hand swept up to brush an errant strand of hair behind a pointed ear. "Thou findest mine form attractive, then?" 

"Very much so," Yom breathed, not even trying to hide a leer. He and the rest of the mortals present stayed fixed upon her as she reversed the path of her hand, sliding it up to caress her own breast.

The others watched with fascination as she teased at the soft flesh before holding it in the palm of her hand. Her claws drew tiny rivulets of blood as she pressed them inwards. Tenderly, she drew her hand up to her mouth, licking clean blood-slicked fingers. The tiny puncture wounds healed as they watched, though a smear of blood still remained about her lips.

"A shame," she said softly, her smile sharp-edged. "That I be neither interested nor available." Yahla pressed her hand (slick with spit and blood) into Fou-Lu's, entwining her clawed fingers with his. "A shame, indeed, that as thou seemest the one who hath perpetrated mine husband's injures, thy death is needful." Uncoiling herself like a snake from her languid posture, the empress stalked forward, threat and power in her every move. Yom backed up involuntarily and his soldiers took up defensive positions.

Fou-Lu smiled, walking a few steps behind his wife to guard her back. She was not a weak-willed and simple creature like many human females seemed to be. Instead, she was a fierce warrior, as well as undeniably feminine.

"Dread me, mortals," she purred, as faces lost their lewdness and grew nervous and frightened. "Thou knowest not how wroth I be…nor the extent of mine ire."

"I warn you now, My Lady," Yom said. "Move away from His Majesty. You can find another mate, but you won't be coming back to life again."

She shook her head. "Dragons mate for life. Should I allow thee to slay mine mate, I wouldst be alone in mine antiquity."

"Yom."

The mortal, who had been focused on Yahla, looked behind her to meet Fou-Lu's gaze. 

"Hath any being e'er told thee, foolish one," the dragon said, smiling cruelly. "Thou shouldst not incur the wrath of dragons, for thou art but small…and savory…"

Yom appeared to have regained a measure of his composure. "As much as I'm sure you'd love to eat me, Your Majesties, I'm afraid I can't allow it."

"Oh? How doth thou propose to stop us?" Yahla asked. "Mayhap thou hast prepared to face a dragon, but art thou prepared for two?"

"Without as doubt," the summoner proclaimed confidently, starting into a complex series of gestures. However, he never finished summoning, for a vice-like clawed hand caught him around the neck and slammed him into the floor. The human's head split open under the impact, spraying Yom's shocked soldiers with blood and brains.

When Fou-Lu released Yom's corpse, he turned to find his wife already disposing of the Imperial soldiers. Several of the mortal dead hardly looked human at all, while for others there was no sign of that which had killed them. _'Tis a foul affray…and doubtless 'twould be improper to force mine lovely wife to do all the work…_

He joined in, as the soldiers Yom had stationed to surround them rushed in to try and stop the sudden deterioration of circumstances. Mortal men fell with spines snapped and flesh frozen to their bones. Claws proved effective against unprotected skin, and a touch of death traveled among them that dropped them like stones.

A mortal bearing a two handed sword charged at Fou-Lu with abandon, intent on spearing him with several feet of steel blade. The dragon sidestepped, then broke the man's neck barehanded. Yahla was progressing similarly, and soon the last of the mortal soldiers had either fled or perished.

Covered in blood that was not his own, Fou-Lu regained a mortal form, back in the tatted and torn remains of his once-royal outfit. He expected Yahla to stay in her half-dragon form, and she didn't surprise him. 

Untouched and covered in the blood of their enemies, Yahla grinned ferally at him. "Doth thou still wish to tryst, beloved mine?"

"Little space is left for such," he replied, gesturing to the corpses littering the interior of the building. "And I wouldst we were to cleanse ourselves er we take our pleasure."

"Thou wert ever a speaker of wisdom," the goddess conceded. "Thereto, I prefer thee more in thine other form, and thou lookst not to have the energy to assume it once more."

"And what doth thou findst unappealing about mine mortal form?" Fou-Lu asked playfully.

"'Tis mortal," Yahla replied airly. "And the thought of loving a mortal doth not appeal unto me."

"I hadst thought thee fond of mortals," he commented in good humor as they proceeded out of doors, both intending to find a stream of river in which to bathe.

"I be fond of the creatures, but I wouldst not they interfere in mine love life," she said, making Fou-Lu laugh. "What is thy mirth? I be in earnest!"  
"Unwitting was any offense, 'twas thy turn of phrase that brought mine laughter." Fou-Lu stepped out beyond the range of the building, feet padding softly through the undergrowth.

Yahla walked after him, blood drying against her skin, turning the green coppery. "Worry not. Mine offense is vain, and not in seriousness. I merely jest with thee."

"I knowst. Hast I not the right to do so as well?" the dragon said, smiling. "Come, mine senses tell me of a spring a ways beyond."

After several minutes of walking, they did indeed come across water. A trickling spring had collected in a depression between several trees, forming a wide and calm pool of water. Cress and reeds grew along the bank, forming a break in the usual undergrowth. 

Fou-Lu knelt and swirled his hand through the water, smiling. "Let us bathe anon, and then we mayest find pleasure in each other's company."

Yahla submerged herself immediately, the water coming up to her chest when she stood. Fou-Lu waded in after her, shedding the tattered remains of his clothes. He was taller, the water falling just below his rib cage.

"I shalt wash thy back if thou wilt wash mine," he suggested.

She complied, and they spent some time scrubbing the blood off of each other, turning the water red.

Fou-Lu scoured the last of the gore off one of her wings as the goddess finished rinsing out her hair. He lost hold of the appendage he was working on when she turned and dunked him. A firm hand rubbed at his scalp as he spluttered.

"Thine hair…'tis a mess," Yahla scolded, pinning her lover in the water. It wouldn't harm him. He was of water, and unable to drown. Of course, it would still be uncomfortable if he filled his lungs with liquid. "Didst thou not yet wash it?"

"It doth not wish to be clean," he grumbled, trying to free himself. 

Yahla frowned. "What I wouldst not give for a bar of soap. At last she let him go, apparently satisfied with her handiwork. Fou-Lu glowered at her, rubbing his sore head, and she smiled sweetly back at him. 

_I hadst forgotten her fondness for doing that…_ "I be not an invalid," he protested. "I canst wash mine own hair."

She sniffed. "Thou ne'er dost a proper job of it."

Exasperated, and a bit wetter than he had planned, Fou-Lu climbed from the water, collecting the shreds of his clothing on the way. He examined them, disgruntled and with a touch of distaste. "I wouldst I knew how I wilt find a new array of clothes in the heart of the wilderness."

Yahla had finished, and followed him up onto the bank. "Abandon them. Clothing is a human concept, and 'tis more pleasing to see thee without."

Fou-Lu sighed ruefully. "I knewst thou wouldst say that." He kissed her as she pressed the length of her wet body against his.

"Canst thou not take thine other form?" she murmured against his lips. "'Tis a fairer match when both our forms are of a semblance."

"Indeed," came his reply. "Why dost thou not turn thyself human, then?"

"Well, I suppose…" Her wings melted into her back, skin lightening and shedding its scales. Claws sucked back into her fingertips. Then they continued as they had left off.

They made love there on the bank, in the form of mortals. Lips brushed over scented skin, moving to caress tender spots and leave moist trails over pink bodies. Limbs twisted and tangled, bodies molding against each other. Roaming freely, soft hands stroked and teased, raising gooseflesh and pleasured noises.

At last, they lay sprawled against each other, murmuring sweet endearments into pointed ears.

"Mine love for thee hath ne'er waned," Fou-Lu whispered, stroking her cheek. The goddess sighed and rubbed her head into his shoulder.

"I love thee, Fou-Lu," she said back, smiling.

"I hadst guessed that when thou near killed thyself to save me," he said affectionately.

"How couldst I not?" she asked. "'Twas thee that gavest me purpose and saved mine life when I wert but new summoned to this earth."

"'Twas but what any gentle creature wouldth do," the emperor dismissed, wrapping his arms about her waist.

"I thinkest I hast loved thee since that moment," she said after a while. "Lorn and bewildered as I wert, 'twas thou that wert mine saving grace."

Fou-Lu did not argue, holding her until she drifted to sleep. Her breathing went soft and deep, muscles going limp against him. Smiling, the emperor brushed her cheek (a familiar gesture) and thought back to the first time he had met her. She had been a different creature then, terrified and vulnerable…

A smile at his lips, he fell asleep, dreaming of past events.

__

The emperor frowned ominously at the messenger before him. "We believest we told them to halt their experiment in that line."

The messenger gulped. "Aye, milord, but 'twould seem they be going against Your Majesty's word."

Fou-Lu shifted his weight back onto his right foot, his arms crossing at his chest as he half-lidded his eyes thoughtfully. "So be it. A chance was given unto them. It seemeth they have refused it." He looked back up at the man, causing the mortal to become somewhat nervous. All humans seemest nervous in mine presence… I wouldst wonder at the reason, he thought, amusing himself. "Call up the squad of our troops. We wilt deal with this personally…"

"Yes God-Emperor," bowing, the messenger went to his errand, leaving the dragon to stand alone.

He was Fou-Lu, god and self-proclaimed emperor. Summoned into the world by the prayers of mortals and a spell cast by the very ancestors of the humans who were now giving him trouble, Fou-Lu was in the process of forging the nations of the world into a single entity he called the Empire. The spell that had been used to call him had proved flawed, and instead of a whole god, they had gotten half of one. Him. Fou-Lu. Had he not been half of the incredibly powerful Yorae dragon, he would have been powerless. As it was, he was equal to many of the other gods in most ways. Well aware of the problems that could and had gone wrong with the spell, he had outlawed any to cast it.

Recently, a group of scientist had been fiddling with it, and though he had given them and ultimatum, it seemed they had chosen to use the spell.

He had to delay longer that he liked for the soldiers to be ready. With his power, he did not truly need them, but it was good to be prepared.

__

It was a large, scientific-looking place, decorations seemingly left out of the design. Fou-Lu strode directly inside, his soldiers spreading out behind him. His face was a mask. 

The maids and servants who worked about the place were quickly secured by the guards, who would keep them from interfering. His entourage smaller by a good number, the emperor confidently worked his way through halls and passages into the inner room, where experiments were conducted.

They were close to their destination, and a droning chant could be heard. Fou-Lu narrowed his eyes when the sound stopped, signifying the completion of the spell. He stepped up his pace, turning it into a run when screams and roars sounded. The door to the room had been locked, and he broke it down with his shoulder, hearing his guards clatter after him. The view that came to his eyes brought him to a halt. One of the guards ran into his back, then stepped back, apologizing franticly.

The scientists were cowering in the back of the room. It seemed the idiots had been unsatisfied with summoning only one god, and had tried for two. They both wore not a stitch of clothing, not that a god would care. The female god, who looked humanoid in appearance, was presently impaled on the claws of the much larger male. The male god looked nothing like a human, standing nearly four times the female's size and a dozen times thicker. The claws of the creature's right hand had pierced the female clean through, going in one side and protruding half a foot out the other. Upon seeing Fou-Lu's entrance, the male roared and shook the female off his claws, launching her body across the room. The goddess hit the far wall and slid down it, leaving tracks of blood on the stone.

Fou-Lu eyed the other male god warily. It was obvious that this one was insane, but strong. He would have to proceed with caution.

Destroying the scientists who had summoned the beast with a wave of ice, the god emperor changed his form, ascending to a full dragon. The soldiers behind him gasped as all humanoid features melted away and the newly formed dragon roared. Fou-Lu would have smile, had he had a mouth equipped for such things. Most of the soldiers had never seen him use his power.

The other god returned the challenge, and Fou-Lu darted forwards to engage it in combat.

__

The battle had proved more difficult that he had expected, and the emperor was forced to use several of his most powerful attacks repeatedly before he subdued his opponent. At last, the other god died, a nearly unheard of thing. Fortunately, this god had been new to the earth, and not as firmly anchored to it.

The dragon took back his humanoid form as the other died, falling lifeless to the ground. The emperor turned to find his subjects staring at him with awe, some of them prostrating themselves on the ground. He ignored them for the moment, and walked over to the female's body, intending to give her a decent burial.

He fully expected her to be dead. Wounds struck by another god could kill even an old and powerful deity, and were terribly hard to heal. It was a shame…the female proved to be good looking and white haired, her looks a near-perfect foil for his own. He started to lift the body in his arms, but stopped when it cried out. Surprised, Fou-Lu found himself staring into the golden eyes of a confused and terrified goddess. Their staring contest did not last long. The heavily bleeding wounds took their toll, and the dragoness passed out.

The emperor swore. "Inform the medic he is needed and send him hither," he ordered one of the men, who scrambled to obey.

After a moment of waiting, the field doctor arrived, cursing. Fou-Lu looked for the medical pack that usually accompanied the man, and frowned when he didn't find it.

"Where art thine instruments?" he demanded as the mortal crouched next to the female's body.

The medic scowled, looking disgusted with himself. "I didst not think they wouldst be needed. 'Twould be thee that did the fighting, and thou rarely need the aid of one such as I."

"Thou didst not bring them with thee?" he said incredulously.

"They art back at the palace. Which is a pity, as it means I be lacking a needle and thread, or e'en bandages, which is what is needed most as of now."

Fou-Lu looked at him, then back at the body. 'Tis for the best… He slowly removed his shirts and started ripping the cloth into strips as every mortal in the room looked at him incredulously. The dragon, his bare chest shining dully, shoved the pile of silk over to the mortal healer. "Makest use of these." Then he stood, leaving the doctor to his work. He would have helped, but he was no healer, and he had expended too much magic to heal such wounds.

"Um…Milord?" the leader of the soldiers asked tremulously, apparently feeling it was somehow inappropriate for their ruler to go around half dressed.

"Yes?" the god asked absently, watching the doctor work.

"Mayest we give thee a shirt or somesuch?" the mortal blurted finally.

_Fou-Lu had to laugh._

Minutes later, clothes in one of the soldier's spare shirts for the sake of the humans, Fou-Lu knelt next to the unidentified goddess, watching the medic tie the last of the silk bandages in place. 

"There," the doctor said with satisfaction, sitting back. "'Tis the best that can be done without better supplies."

"She canst be moved?" he asked cautiously, feeling uncomfortable in his borrowed shirt. It was of a rough fabric, certainly not silk, and chaffed his skin.

"Verily so, Milord," the doctor replied. "Though 'twould be wise to get her to another doctor as soon as possible."

Nodding slightly, the dragon lifted her heavily bandaged form in his arms, supporting her weight against his chest. Some of her blood stained his clothes and borrowed shirt, and he turned to look at the soldier's captain. "We shalt return to our palace. Accompany us, but leave a score of thy soldiers to clean up this foul mess." Then, he turned his gaze to the guard who had loaned him the shirt. "Our apologies for thy garment, soldier," he said rather sheepishly, "But we needs must carry this maiden to Chedo, regardless of bloodstains."

The soldier, a young fellow who had been the only one near Fou-Lu's size, blushed and ducked his head. Several of the older soldiers grinned.

Soon they were on the road again, the emperor carrying the body the whole way, in spite of tentative offers of help from his subjects. Once they reached Chedo, the soldiers and spare shirt were returned to their barracks, while Fou-Lu retired to his rooms, ordering the best physician in the city to attend his chambers.

The human in question was Tal-Durn, a mortal who was considered eccentric to his race but perfectly sensible to Fou-Lu. Perhaps Tal-Durn was a bit out of society, but then, so was he, and they both believed humans impossible to understand. It was rather ironic, seeing as Tal-Durn had chosen and occupation that required him to work with and on humans. In past conversation, the doctor had said that he understood how and why every part of the human body worked, except the brain.

The doctor arrived promptly after Fou-Lu's summons. He had no reason not to, as he was one of the emperor's two human friends. The other was a military officer by the name of Mir-Heu.

Tal-Durn arrived weighed down by all his medical apparatus. The small mortal could barely be seen under it all. Fou-Lu helped him carry it inside (something he would do for only two humans) before pointing the medic over towards the patient.

Fou-Lu's rooms were elaborate, as befitted an emperor. Personally, he could care less. In the center of the room was his massive bed, the only thing in the room he was actually fond of. The infirm goddess had been placed upon it, blood notwithstanding.

Tal-Durn whistle when he saw her. "This one is no human, I takest it?" Fou-Lu nodded, watching as Tal-Durn removed the bandages and set to work. The human grinned as he inspected the loose covering. "Doth mine eye decieveth me, do I recognize thy shirt?" After cleaning out the wounds, the doctor started to sew them up, his needle and thread darting through tiny stitches and knots. After he had tied off the last thread, Tal-Durn rewrapped the wounds in fresh bandages and injected her with an antibiotic. Then, he looked up at Fou-Lu. "'Tis little I canst guarantee," the human admitted. "Ne'er before hast I worked upon any immortal."

After briefly discussing a few things, the doctor left, taking his things with him, and Fou-Lu sat down on the edge of the bed. He sat and stared at her for a while. It was getting late, he was tired, and a stranger was sleeping in his bed. While he could have her moved, Tal-Durn had recommended against it, least she break a stitch. He could also ask his subjects to bring up a cot, but he was too tired to do so. Instead, he lay down on the bed, still shirtless. It wasn't like he'd be pressed up against her in the night, as the bed was large enough to hold a family of five. He shrugged off his pants, boots, and gloves, and kicked them off the corner of the bed. He could pick them up again in the morning, and if not, one of the maids would.

He was a dragon, and as such slept in the nude. If not for mortals, he probably would have gone about naked. Silk was his compromise. It was soft and light, and practically like wearing nothing at all, which was the desired effect. Were his bed partner to waken, she would hopefully not mind his state of dress. After all, she was a dragon, too.

Fou-Lu drifted to sleep, and spent the night dreaming of his unborn half… 


	6. Chapter 5 Continuing Dreams

****

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Five

Continuing Dreams

__

Upon awakening, he found himself still in bed, the injured goddess lying where they had placed her. The bleeding had stopped in the night, or at least there were no new stains on the sheets.

Fou-Lu rose out of bed, stretching. A squeak and the slam of a door alerted him to a servant who had apparently come to tell him something. The emperor blinked, then grinned rather toothily. Deliberating as to whether it would be worth the amusement that would follow were he to exit in what he was currently wearing (nothing), Fou-Lu eventually got dressed.

He walked over to the door and stood, listening. After a while the expected knock came.

"Is…is Majesty…descent?" The unmistakable voice of a badly startled youngster came through the door. 

Fou-Lu opened the door almost before the child had finished speaking. The boy stared at him, and he slowly raised an ominous brow. "Yes?"

"Um…I be from Tal-Durn, Sir…Majesty…Lord." It was apparent the boy's flustered state was leading to an inability to remember the proper title.

"Art thou, then?" the emperor said. "And what sayeth our friend, little one? Didst he not warn thee of mine sleeping habits?"

The message runner gulped. Fou-Lu smiled encouragingly at him. "The doctor…said he wilt be coming later to check upon the lady." Message delivered, the lad looked eager to leave.

"Very well," the dragon said after a moment. "If that is all, thou art dismissed."

The relieved youngster vanished almost before he had finished speaking. Fou-Lu shook his head ruefully and went back inside his room.

To his surprise, he found his guest awake. Her eyes moved to follow him as he walked over to stand next to her.

"Greetings." He smiled at her, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside her. Her narrow face tensed, but she remained silent. "Our name is Fou-Lu. Mayest we ask thine?" She didn't reply, and he frowned. "Dost thou not understand us?" 

Throat working, the female managed to croak out, "Yes…"

"Our apologies. Thou shouldst most likely not talk until thy wounds art healed," Fou-Lu said. "But er we leave, canst thou tellst us thy name?"

"Yahla," she managed to say, blinking slowly. Then her eyes closed, and she appeared t have fallen unconscious again.

"Yahla…" the emperor murmured, looking at the sleeping female. "'Tis a lovely name…"

Fou-Lu woke to the rising sun in his eyes. He started to put a hand up to shield them, but Yahla was sitting on it, so he had to use the other. Holding his hand out before his face, he smiled down at his wife, remembering last night's dream. After Yahla had first told him her name, she had healed but slowly, and never would heal entirely. She would be eternally scarred, and it limited her power, preventing her form ascending to the form of a full dragon. 

Yahla looked uninclined to wake, so Fou-Lu turned his head to the side to avoid the sun and fell back to sleep, dreaming of a variety of high and low spot from his years with Yahla.

__

"Yahla. Wilt thou marry us?" the emperor asked on bended knee. He had no ring-- dragons did not wear such things, and Yahla would lose it anyway.

The dragoness, who had spent the last year healing and falling in love with her rescuer, smiled. She leaned to kiss him. "There is but one thing."

"Yes?" he asked, prepared to grant her whatever she could wish.

"Wilt thou stop with the damned royal 'We'"

Fou-Lu got slowly to his feet, the shattered body of his wife in his arms. The entire army had gone silent, as if afraid to intrude on an obviously painful moment. His face shuttered, the emperor let his gaze travel from one face to another. His voice was strangely hoarse when he finally spoke. "General." General Wam-Ren, leader of his army, stepped up to his side. "Thou wilt find the perpetrator of this. Hunt them down and destroy them. Find those who supplied yon uprisers with such weapons. I wishest them dead."

The general nodded, tactfully ignoring the emperor's omission of the royal 'We.' "Yes, milord. 'Twill be done."

"Good. I wilt be in mine tent…shouldst any need me." Fou-Lu, carrying the body of his lover, left, eyes staring blankly ahead.

The army personal exchanged glances before the general jumped into action, giving instructions and assignments. One of the officers, however, refused.

The young man stepped forward, away from the body of troops he commanded. "My apologies, sir, but I cannot comply."

"What?!" the general thundered. "What art thou doing, Mal-Heu?"

The officer didn't balk, meeting the older soldier's gaze steadily. "I be going to see His Majesty."

"In case thou hadst not noticed," the man said acidicly. "Our lord no doubt wishes to be alone."

"In case thou hadst not noticed, the emperor just lost his wife and unborn child. As a friend, I cannot allow him to weather that alone," the son of Mir-Heu said. "…sir."

"Very well," Wam-Ren said. "Thou mayest go. As of now, thou art relieved of thy command."

Mal-Heu looked shocked for a moment before his face hardened. "I see…" With that, the junior officer turned on his heel and left.

Fou-Lu sat on the floor of his tent, the body of his wife on the floor beside. He sat and stared at nothing, occasionally stroking a strand of burnt hair. Several servants had disturbed him earlier, most intent on removing the body and preparing it for burial. He had thrown them out before they had even made it through the door.

He sensed the approach of another figure, and as it hesitated outside the tent flap, ordered, "Go away, Mal-Heu."

There was a rustle as the soldier entered. Fou-Lu didn't turn, he remained with his back to the door. "I said, quit this place."

"No." The officer stepped forwards, coming around to stand in front of the dragon. "I will not."

The emperor raised his gaze to the other's face, a flash of anger coming through the façade. "I needst not thee, nor any other. Be gone, and leave me. I be well."

"Do not lie to me, Fou-Lu," Mal-Heu said, crouching in front of his friend. "I have known thee since I was born, and my father knew thee before I." He reached forward and clasped the emperor's forearms. Fou-Lu started to pull away, but Mal-Heu held him still, knowing his friend wouldn't exert enough of his strength to hurt him. "Listen to me, dammit!"

"Get out!" the dragon snarled, his grief manifesting through anger. Anger he took out on his only living human friend. 

"Like Hell I will!" Mal-Hew snapped back. "I know what thou art going through! I understand, and I will not let thee tear thyself apart! This nation needs thee! These people need thee!"

"How couldst thou understand!? Thou art mortal!" Fou-Lu shoved the human away from him, glaring.

"I understand, because I happened to me!" growled Mal-Heu, positioning himself back in front of the dragon. "Thou will listen! My wife, Sari, was pregnant with our first child." Fou-Lu refused to look at him, but Mal-Heu plunged on. "I was on leave, visiting the family. I was still in uniform, and was attacked by rebels. One threw a spear at me, and Sari took it in my stead. She did not die instantly. The wound grew festering and spoiled, and she caught a fever. After many days of agony, she died. They all die in the end, do the not, Fou-Lu," he said cruelly. "Every one thou loves or cares about…no matter what thou does…"

"Quiet!" The voice that tore itself from Fou-Lu's throat was not his own. It was angry and bitter and full of tears. Tears much like those running silently down his face, testimony to his troubled emotions. The dragon slumped, burying his face in his hands.

Mal-Heu was there in an instant, giving his much older friend a shoulder to cry on. "That is right…let it out. Cry."

His friend pulled away for a moment, choking on his own voice. "I wish not to go on…alone."

The emperor started to cry in earnest, sobs racking his slender frame. Mal-Heu found his own eyes misty and wet, both from sympathy and personal loss (Yahla had been like an older sister to him) and remembered pain. They cried together, clinging to each other like two survivors of disaster, who live on while everything they know is gone. Fou-Lu cried out Yahla's name often, while Mal-Heu murmured the name of his own lost wife.

Eventually, tears subsided and Fou-Lu pulled away, straightening his clothes and trying to wipe away the evidence of his weakness. 

"Thou didst see none of that," he said after a while.

Mal-Heu smiled sadly. "Indeed." He turned to exit, but stopped. "Oh. Would thou speak to the general? I fear he had relieved me of my command."

"What ever for?" the dragon asked.

Shrugging, the soldier failed in his attempt to look innocent. "I disobeyed his order to come and see thee."

"Ah." Fou-Lu nodded. "Yes, I wilt have speech with him."

Mal-Heu bobbed his head in reply, moving to leave. Before he had totally exited, a soft call stopped him.

"Mal-Heu." There was a pause, and an even softer voice continued. "Mine thanks…"


	7. Chapter 6 Arguments and Irritability

****

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Six

Arguments and Irritability

"Why art thou crying?"

Fou-Lu jumped, startled awake by the soft voice. Rubbing the sleep and tears out of his eyes, he answered the concerned question. "'Twas a dream…an old memory." Vision mostly recovered, he looked up to meet Yahla's gaze.

Her golden eyes were worried, her brow slightly furrowed. It gave her face a rather preoccupied air, as though the weight of the world was on her shoulders.. "Of what, pray tell?"

He considered telling her, but shrugged it off. _I needst not add unto her worries…_ "Naught. 'Tis of no import."

She accepted his excuse with a raised brow. Fou-Lu found himself half expecting her to continue the line of questioning, but nothing was forthcoming. It was a relief. There were some questions he was not eager to answer.

"Didst thou sleep well?" the dragon asked at last, to break the silence.

"Indeed," she replied, seated next to him. The goddess was still half dragon, winged and scaled. "I be to understand that thou didst not?"

"They didst not become unfavorable dreams until the very last," he assured her. "Mine rest was pleasant."

"I be glad, for it seemeth we both shalt be needing our energy today," the female said seriously, rising to her feet. He followed suit, topping her height by several inches.

"What dost thou mean?" he asked, frowning. He was still tired, not quite awake, and his mind was processing slowly.

"To reach Chedo we needs must get out of this forest, the fact that humans art searching for us notwithstanding, and 'twould be wise to remain on the move." Her matter of fact tone reflected her expression, that a blunt and outspoken disposition. 

"I fear thou art more awake than I," he yawned, attempting to get his sleepy brain back up to speed. It was an uphill struggle, with his body protesting all the way.

She slapped him lightly on the arm, smiling. "Then waken, for we hast not the time. I dost not know where within this forest we be, so I canst not measure the distance to the capital," Yahla continued. "'Twould be a fair course of action were we to begin our trek to Chedo."

"I be wise to that, fere," the emperor replied with mild causticity. "Pray halt thine harping upon it so I mayest stir mineself." 

The dragoness scowled, making her displeasure clear. "Speed. I wish to be away. 'Tis too near where the mortals knowest us to be." 

He yawned again and stretched, arching his lithe back. Sleeping on dirt added aches and pains along his spine, and he twisted his neck to the side in an attempt to work a crick out of it. "I takest thou hast been awake for some time?"

"Yes. I hast been awake, and thinking," she replied, following the movement of his body with appreciation.

"I canst tell…" he muttered, still working the pangs out of his stiff body.

"What was that?"  
"Naught…"

Soon, they were both on the move, passing through the virgin timberland. Fou-Lu assumed half-dragon form near the start of the march, because his skin was less likely to tear on the undergrowth in that frame. A discussion on whether or not it would be wiser to fly than walk reached the final conclusion that it would be best to remain on the ground, least the mortals see them and attempt to shoot them out of the sky. Fou-Lu had argued in favor of speed, Yahla for caution. They reached a compromise. They would utilize flight once they exited the lush woodlands, as it would be difficult to conceal their presence after that point anyway.

Thick undergrowth proved no barrier to a pair of dragons, and they made fairly good time. They stopped to rest but once, and that merely because maintaining dragon form was wearing Fou-Lu out.

When the sun went down over the edge of the horizon, they continued their travel. Light faded with the salmon-pink sunset, but as dragons their night vision was excellent. Unhindered by the lack of light, they finally stopped around midnight. A mossy patch of ground provided a comfortable bed, and they curled up together to sleep. Both slept well, pressed cheek to cheek. Fou-Lu had no disturbing dreams. This time, he dreamt of happier times…

__

"What?" He lowered his gaze to stare at the female he was hugging. "Didst…didst thou sayest thou wert… with child?" the emperor asked cautiously, sliding a hand down to touch his beloved's stomach. The swelling there confirmed her statement.

She smiled at him, her face radiant. "As thou sayest. I be carrying thy son below mine breast. 'Tis why I be weak and irritable as of late."

Fou-Lu sat in shock a moment, then a slow smile worked its way across his face. He laid a kiss upon her hair.

"Thou art pleased?" she asked, turning around in his arms to face him. Fou-Lu answered by showering her face with kisses. 

"Verily," he murmured, smiling broadly. "'Tis a boy?"

She ran a finger down the edge of his jaw. "Yes. Thou wilt be the father of a fine lad."

"'Twill be wonderful," he said. "Thou I needs wonder at the level of strength he wilth possess. For in truth, we both art flawed."

"He wilth be a god," the female assured him. "Mine wounds hast flawed me, but shouldst not pass onward to mine offspring. And thou art half of the Yorae dragon. Thy power equals that of a full god."

"True…but he wilth be born of this earth, as no god hath been before. He wilth have ties onto it," the emperor said. Truly, no god had ever been born on this planet. In fact, Fou-Lu hadn't thought it possible, for no god had ever sired a child that he knew of. Perhaps it was to be expected, as Yahla was a goddess of life, as well as death. And childbirth was the greatest manifestation of life…

"We shalt findeth that out, shalt we not?" She rested her cheek against his. "What shalt we namest him?"

"Let us think upon it, and mayhap a name shalt come to mind."

"…Let us namest him Yori," his wife offered.

"Yori? Why?" he asked.

"To giveth honor to thee. Let him be named for his father."

"…Very well. He shalt be Yori, son of gods."

"What? Thou will be a father?" the human asked, wide eyed with surprise. Fou-Lu was practically beaming at him, and Mal-Heu had to grin. 

"Indeed. 'Tis a boy, whom we hath chosen to name as Yori," the emperor stated proudly. "'Twas unexpected, but welcome in truth."

"Have thou told the palace yet?" Mal-Heu inquired, after congratulating his friend for several minutes.

"Nay…'twas though they wouldst make too much of a fuss. Let them be surprised." Fou-Lu had a permanent half-smile on his face. His entire demeanor was gleeful and proud, like many other new fathers throughout the years.

"I would think they would notice when Yahla begins to gain weight," the man said dryly. "And thou goes around looking as though thou have been enspelled to uncharacteristic cheeriness."

"A powerful spell, this," the dragon laughed.

Upon arising in the morn, they proceeded in their travels, moving at a quick step through the unbroken terrain. Though the prior day they had captured and eaten several of the smaller forest animals, a hard day of travel took its toll. Hungry and desiring to maintain their energy, they took a break to hunt. Bringing down a large, lizard-like animal, they ripped loose handfuls of its flesh and devoured them raw, staining hands and faces with red. Lighting a fire would be too inconspitious. In hybrid dragon form, their stomachs were equipped to handle the blood and raw meat, and did not revolt like human stomachs would. The meal (as much raw meat as anyone could want) restored their energy, and they made it to the edge of the forest before they were forced to retire for the night. Sleep claimed them, both aware that the next day they would be taking to wing.

"'Tis still not to mine liking," Yahla said, frowning as she looked out beyond the edge of the forest. Fields spread out before them, growing more and more cultivated the farther form the forest edge. Neat lines and rows had been rendered in the dirt, giving an air of humanity and civilization. _Too much canst go wrong…_

"'Twil be near impossible to hide ourselves out where the humans maketh their homes," Fou-Lu said darkly. "And mortal mouths speakest much."

"Rumor shalt not endanger us any near as much as the sight of dragons in the skies o'er head." The empress remained fixed in her stance, and his words would not budge her. 

"I yeildst," Fou-Lu said. "Thou mayest walk. I shalt fly." With that, his form shifted, taking full dragon shape. His joints cracked and reshaped themselves, and he sprang forward into the open without a backward glance.

"Hold!" she shouted, jolting after him. "Damn it!" Unable to change to a full-fledged dragon, she was forced to remain as she was--- mostly humanoid and pissed as hell. Yahla could feel Fou-Lu's amusement. He always had thought her habit of cursing when she grew upset funny.

Her delicate wings were smaller than his, and she pumped them franticly in an attempt to catch up with him. He was several body lengths ahead, and it seemed as though he would remain permanently out of her reach. At last she drew level with him, her tail and hair streaming out behind her like the tail of a comet. Yelling at him to stop, she scowled and grabbed ahold of his tail when he failed to comply. She stopped flying and let his propulsion tow her, rather delighting in the sensation. Hanging there like dead weight, the wind threatened to pull her off, but once she hooked her claws in she could sit back and enjoy.

The dragon whose tail she was presently attached to turned his head to glare at her, slit eyes seeming to punch through her. She met the gaze of his reddish eyes with a sweet smile. He sighed in annoyance, making his wife actively grin, and kept going.

His dragon form had more endurance than she, and though she flew on her own now and then, she spent most of the time hanging onto her husband's tail. Fou-Lu grumbled but did not attempt to dislodge her.

There were many villagers that day who looked up with panic and disbelief at the dragon, and then simply stared as they spotted the small humanoid he was towing.

Forgetting momentarily that his wife was hanging literally from his hindquarters, Fou-Lu landed as he customarily did. Unfortunately it sent Yahla flying, the dragoness landing heavily in a clump of bushes.

The cursing that commenced reminded him quickly of her presence, and the emperor speedily returned to default mortal form. Going with some concern to see whether she was all right, he got whacked by the angry goddess. _So… naught wrong with her…_ he thought as he got back up off the ground.

Glaring at him, her hands on her hips, Yahla snapped, "Warnest me er thou dost that!"

"Apologies," Fou-Lu said, rubbing his sore jaw. "I hadst let thy presence slippeth from mine mind."

She remained angry, so her tendered his apology with a kiss. _'Tis unusual…she hath been more irritable than is normal as of late…not that the time we hath spent together recently hath been long…_

Surrendering after a stiff moment, she returned the kiss, seeming to have accepted the apology. His arms encircled her waist as she braced herself against his chest.

Fou-Lu pulled away after a while, holding her at arms length. She looked up at him with a hint of petulance, but otherwise remained subdued. "That is better," he said affectionately. "Now, we shalt halt for the night." She opened her mouth to protest, but he shushed her with another kiss. "I be knowing 'tis a needless delay, but attempting to put siege upon the castle whilst our powers art drained is foolhardy, whether we are gods or not."

"'Twill giveth them more time to prepare against us," she argued, stiffening in his arms and turning somewhat away. "'Tis foolish…we shouldst press onward."

"Enow. They shalt gather naught they have not already had." He scowled, responding to her anger with some of his own. "Mayhap thou hast not spent thine energy, but 'tis I that hast been towing thee all day. I be foreworn, e'en if thou art not."

Yahla recoiled from him, and he regretted his words for a moment. _We shouldst not quarrel…divided, we art vulnerable._

"Aforetime, mine lord, thou ignored mine worries," she said angrily. "And 'twas then that thou wert targeted and I near died!"

This time it was Fou-Lu that withdrew, shuddering, at painful memories. More calmly, he said, "Bringest not that up, Yahla. Thou hast mine apology, and I withdraw mine hasty word. However, the simplest truth be that I hast not the energy needed to besiege the capital as of this night. Yet, the wilt not gather more reinforcements." 

"Oh? And what reason canst thou givest for that?" It was obvious she had retained her anger. 

"I hast summoned mine guardians, Won-Qu and A-Tun. They shalt lay waste unto the outlying troops that attempteth to reach Chedo er we," he explained, attempting to soothe her. It was odd. Usually they did not fight, though there were occasional arguments. "As 'twas I that wert their creator, they hearest mine command whether they be with me or not." Glancing about, he said with an air of finality. "Enow. Let us rest, that we mayest be well rested for the dawn." With that, he made a bed for himself on the ground.

Yahla stared at him a moment, before going to lay at his side.

They woke early, at the break of the day. It was overcast, and the rising sun cast rosy highlights across fluffy clouds. It looked as though things would clear up later in the day, and there was already a pleasant breeze. More fortunately, Fou-Lu's guardians had been by. They had apparently been uninclined to wake the peacefully sleeping dragons, but had left a Fou-Lu a change of clothes.

It looked a lovely day, the time in which to right old wrongs, but it would prove disastrous…

  



	8. Chapter 7 A Seperation of Powers

****

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Seven

A Separation of Powers

"Why? Dost thou knowst?" Yahla asked, gesturing to the soldiers that marched in formation around the capital. Their march was orderly, and from their alert and wary behavior it was clear that they at least knew partially what they would be facing. "Surely he canst not believeth he wilt prevail?" 

"I be not wise to that," Fou-Lu admitted, smiling grimly. "Mayhap he is an idiot."

"That didst need not saying," she retorted, "For 'twas already known. Any who wouldst challenge a dragon is either brave or stupid, and 'tis express which this one be."

"Verily…a fool, this Soenil. 'Tis hard to believe he is descended of Mal-Heu's line. In truth, power is a corrupting influence upon mankind." Smiling, the emperor shook his head. "Well. He hath issued his challenge. Let us return it in full." Turning forms, he leapt into the air, spreading wide wings to take flight. A piercing screech echoed through the air, his own reply to Soniel's challenge. Yahla was close on his heels, and though she lacked his advantage, her howled war cry lasted as long as his.

The soldiers all froze, their expressions varying between horror, bewilderment, disbelief, awe, and grim determination. The massive dragon blew them all away with a blast of lethal ice, leaving frost rimming the edges of the sandstone wall behind them. It had missed those who stood at the top of the wall and behind it, but the suddenly panicked civilians fleeing the city trampled many of them. The others perished quickly, exposed to the claws of both Fou-Lu and Yahla.

Fou-Lu ignored the citizenry, who had little to do with the present situation. He and Yahla set their path directly for the palace, flying over abandoned merchant shops, houses, and walls in their way. Landing before the palace doors, Fou-Lu snapped off the head of one of the two guards screening the entrance, while Yahla made short work of the other. Then he broke the door open by throwing his full weight against it. Wood shattered, and the hinges tore, revealing a score of soldiers crouched in weight on a bridge behind it. The bridge was marble, inlayed with jade. Fou-Lu smashed the side railing with his tail and knocked several humans over the side. The fall didn't really hurt them, but it kept them out of the way. 

Having already used a good deal of energy, (and want to remain relatively fresh for the confrontation with Soenil) the First Emperor resumed human shape and summoned his sword to hand. As the pulsing blade flashed into being he spun it in a series of quick parries that drove the charging soldiers back. One human in particular was unbalanced by the dragon's sudden change in shape and possession of a sword. Fou-Lu took said individual's head off at the shoulders before the mortal had a chance to rectify his unsteady stance. Yahla was equally brutal, tearing into flesh with her hands and feet before the mortals around her could adjust to the winged fury that had landed among them.

When the remaining warriors were finished, Fou-Lu and Yahla barely had a few scratches. Royal clothes (the ones Won-Qu and A-Tun had brought) no longer looked so royal, stained with splashes of mortal blood, and Yahla had gained a rather sinister look, arms coated with blood up to the elbows. 

The entry to the palace was dark ahead, and they walked forward cautiously, emerging onto a pathway of lime-green jade. Fou-Lu remained majestic even in his somewhat tattered state, and his stride was graceful and carefully measured. Two angular columns were hung with streamers ahead, and passing beneath them a glowing crystal came to view. A ward spun with in it, and just beyond the crystal was a circle of markings that gleamed green with an inner power. They were engraved delicately, as if the finest craftsmen had been called in to do the job. Beyond the platform was the black of empty space. 

Undaunted, Fou-Lu stepped into the thin air, walking forward as though it was the commonest thing in the world to do. The air rippled where his feet fell, as if an invisible path formed beneath him. After a repeat performance by Yahla, they arrived on a platform, two symbols glowing green at the edges of the landing. Another opening yawned ahead, and the two dragons went in.

They were in a huge room, walls lined with cedar, a most expensive wood. A path led straight ahead, and there were stairways to their either side. One stair went up, the other down. The stair up lead to a walkway with tiled bamboo floors, yet another extravagance.

They ignored the stairs, and took the jade pathway forward. The path was surrounded by wooden pillars that rose up out of the depths below, and lead onto another warp, this one a design of triangles and circles. A small statue sat at the head of the platform, and it conveyed them to the Inner Sanctum. The inner sanctum was surrounded by gardens, and it was there that the dragons reappeared. The gardens of the Imperial Palace were perhaps some of the most beautiful in the world. They entirely surrounded the place, with foliage and wildlife from all over the globe. 

Fou-Lu stepped down off of the block of black granite on which they had materialized, and took the stairs down one by one. His wife stepped on to the grass beside him, taking a moment to look around. The gardens had changed little over the years. In fact, several of the trees had been there some hundred years prior. The area was scattered with lamps and bushes, many of which bloomed in late spring and autumn. The little stream that surrounded the chunk of land they were presently on chuckled and rambled, washing gently against the bank. 

Husband and wife took the small bridge that connected the isle they were on to a larger mass of land. On the other side, broad gates loomed, crimson pillars holding up a sloping roof. It was set in a stone wall, though the gate was doorless and provided no defense. As they crossed, two mortal guards interfered, attempting to drive back the intruders. They were subsequently destroyed.

On the other side of the gates was a path that winded through a rock garden, large boulders set in a field of sand with rippling patterns drawn in the sand around them. Beyond it, their goal. The throne room.

The first impression the room gave was that of a carpeted path leading up to a long stairway, preceded by incense burnt offerings and pyres of natural gas that flamed a steady blue. Greenish flags were hung over each, falling down to brush the jade floor. The walls were carved mahogany, inlaid with pillar-like supports.

Unavoidably, the eye was led up to the top of the stair, where a middle aged man sat. He was dressed elaborately, though the clothes seemed to fit him poorly. A few steps down, a man of the kitsune clan knelt, seeming an attendant of some sort. Neither Yahla nor Fou-Lu paid him any heed, their gaze focused on the oath-breaker that had seated himself on Fou-Lu's throne. His face a mask, eyes glittering with fury, Fou-Lu walked slowly forward, his wife but a step behind.

The man at the top of the stairs rose, arms folded royally before him. He descended several steps, his robes swirling around him, at the same time Fou-Lu took the first steps up. The two emperors halted on the first landing, staring at each other from a distance of several feet. There were to natural gas burners in between them, lending their bluish light.

There was little left of Mal-Heu's strong features in his descendent, Fou-Lu mused, studying the mock-emperor with a sneer. Soenil had an unattractively thin face with a square jaw and tiny eyes, giving him a look that was a cross between a rat and a weasel. A wiry mustache adorned his upper lip, and his eyebrows were like huge bushy caterpillars affixed to his face. He was fairly short of stature, though he had apparently attempted to compensate for it by wearing a monstrous headdress and a set of robes large enough to house a family of six. Tan skin looked sallow next to the violent yellow of Soenil's clothes. Green trimmings and a blue feature had been added in an attempt to make the outfit look regal and grandiose. It didn't work.

Fou-Lu, his clothes bloody and his hair disarrayed, still outclassed him, and they both knew.

The dragon ignored the mortal's pitiful attempts to stammer a greeting, saying flatly, "Thou hast not abided by the promise. Thou hast forgotten the promise." The tone of his voice promised deadly retribution, and silenced the stream of welcomes.

The thirteenth emperor started sweating and averted his gaze, attempting to look submissive. "No, we…I would never! How can you say such a thing, Majesty?" the mortal said, trying to deny his guilt. 

_'Twas thee that madeth effort to kill me…Dost thou takest me for a fool…?_ Fou-lu smiled slightly, his gaze derisive.

"Now that you are here, the throne…" Soenil continued. "Of course, is yours…"

Sneering, the dragon brushed past his successor then froze suddenly in place. _The mortal…we shouldst have watched that one…_ he thought as the effects of a spell washed over him, realizing their folly in ignoring the kitsune. The incantation was familiar, a bastardized version of the same enchantment he himself had used on occasion to create warps and portals. It swelled around him, making the air ripple and change hue. Suddenly disoriented, Fou-Lu could hear Soenil's triumphant voice. 

"Hahahaha! What of your promise now? It is old and meaningless…just like you!"

Gritting his teeth, the dragon growled angrily, eager to end the life of this impudent human. _Fool…_ The spell was uncomfortable, but it was flawed, and wherever they wished to transport him, his power was such that they could not do so against his will.

He straightened up as the efforts of the spell faded, and smirked at the look of horror on the false emperor's face. As he had expected, the spell had not affected him. As a weak imitation of the original, it had no power over a well-rested god. He remained, and Soenil's ploy had failed. 

The smile was quickly wiped from his face as he realized Yahla was gone.

_As those mortal dost say it, oh shit._

Outraged and horrified, Fou-Lu leapt forward, intending to rend the thirteenth emperor limb from limb. He sensed the kitsune starting to escape, and sent a blast of energy his way, knocking the mortal out.

Intent on murdering his rival, the dragon paused at a sharp pain in his side. A foot shining steel had been driven into his flesh as he had turned to deal with the fox. Fou-Lu recognized the blade from its hilt, which was wrought intricately and bore the symbols 'dragonslayer.' _That human trinket…and they thinkest it mayeth harm a dragon…_ he thought as he twisted to regard the blood that was soaking his side and running down his leg in warm rivulets. As it pooled around his right foot, he reached over to touch the source. His hand came away bloody and the dragon looked back up at Soenil with fury in his golden eyes. "Foolish mortal!" he snarled, his voice nearly a shout, outrage and wrath clear in his mind. _He dareth…_ His left hand going to the hilt of the sword embedded in his side, he yanked it free in a spurt of gore, and beheaded Soenil in the same motion.

The former emperor's head rolled a few feet, trailing blood after it. Soenil's decapitated body toppled, bodily fluids spraying in a gruesome arch out of the severed neck. Blood spread out from the body, running in drips and waterfalls down the steps. The carpet was ruined instantly, turning sanguineous in seconds, and it was likely that the stains would never completely come out of the stone, either. Clutching his wounded side, sword secure in his left hand, Fou-Lu stared at the body a moment before he shattered the Dragonslayer against the stone floor. It exploded into slivers of steel upon impact, spraying the area with fine shrapnel. Several pieces bit into Fou-Lu's arms and legs, but it was of no consequence. They were mere scratches.

Willing his own blade to hand, he turned to survey the room, still dripping blood and gore. With quick steps, Fou-Lu stalked gracefully over to the unconscious kitsune, his carriage betraying none of his injury. Ignoring the slick wetness against his skin, the dragon grabbed the mortal by the collar of his robes and slammed him into the wall. Though he had done so but lightly by his standards, several of the fox's ribs cracked audibly. Unnecessary force not withstanding, it was certainly effective in waking his prisoner up. The man cried out and twisted in his grasp, hands going up to his throat in a fruitless attempt to pry away the noose that had tightened around his neck.

"Where doth she be?" the emperor demanded, shaking his prisoner angrily. The mortal gasped and choked as the collar of his robes tightened around his neck. Fou-Lu struck him, breaking several teeth, as he attempted to fade away and transport elsewhere. A handful of robes in his right hand, Fou-Lu held the tip of his sword to the kitsune's neck. "I wouldst speak anon, wert I thee…" the emperor threatened softly. "Tellst thy name, and what thou hast done with mine companion."

"Yuna," the mortal croaked. Fou-Lu loosened his grip slightly to allow the fox to speak. Continuing in a much clearer voice, the fine-boned male spoke. "Your…companion…was transported to another location. Please, put me down."

Fou-Lu narrowed his eyes dangerously, the golden irises flashing. "I knewst this er thou spoke, foolish one! Whither hast thou sent her?!"

"I cannot tell you her precise location!" Yuna said, looking rather panicked when he couldn't teleport out. "Had the spell been properly managed, she would have been sent to the void, never to return…" The kitsune choked as a sword point started to dig itself into his skin, and blood ran down his neck. "Please! A moment! The spell…failed. The woman was transported somewhere on this planet, instead. As it was unintentional, I'm afraid I cannot tell you where…" The scientist looked up at him, the calculating look for once gone, as if he was hoping Fou-Lu would spare his life. 

The hope would prove futile.

Fou-Lu banished his sword and turned his back on the corpse of Yuna.. 

Yahla, his wife, was somewhere on this planet. The bond that was between them should have made it so that when he tried, he could find her anywhere on earth. However, when he tried now, he found her aura fuzzy and impossible to locate. The kitsune had been right. She was on this planet, that he could tell, but the dragon could pinpoint her no further.

It was unusual, to say the least, and disturbing. Only once had her aura felt like that before, and then she had been…

His eyes widened as the realization struck him and rendered momentarily stunned. Then his eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned, as he realized for the first time how much danger Yahla was in_. Mine wife is lorn, and she be pregnant…_


	9. Chapter 8 Reformations and Requests

****

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Eight

Reformation and Requests

He had spent the last day getting the palace and capital back under control. Apart form the destruction of a few overzealous soldiers and corrupt officials, the transition went smoothly. Though there was some reluctance and fear among the populace, an equal number were overcome with awe and rejoicing. God-Emperor Fou-Lu, hero and ideal of all the Empire, had returned.

After throwing out the personal artifacts and possessions of the late Soenil (keeping only an aged portrait of Mal-Heu,) Fou-Lu had ordered the castle refurbished to how it had been during his prior rule and had also commissioned several new sets of clothes.

He had recalled all heads of the present army, leaving only skeleton crews, so to speak, to maintain the necessary posts. Several had been outright corrupt, and were disposed of accordingly, while a number were simply incompetent and were promptly relieve of their command. The remaining officers were informed without room for argument the new standards by which the military would be governed, along with his expectations and wishes. There were a few grumbles but no real protest, as he had also informed them of the consequence of disobeying. Officers whose duty had taken them too far from the palace had been informed of the change by messenger, and Fou-Lu had even arranged for the disposal and replacement of one particularly corrupt mortal at a distance. The man's name, Rasso, would soon be only a memory.

Fou-Lu had been rather surprised to see the number of women serving in the armed forces, for though it was lawful in his day, few women had chosen to follow such a career. Now, not only were there women soldiers, there were also female officers. Being used to dealing with strong females (he had married one) he treated them much as he treated the men, though with a slightly higher level of respect, as one never knew when a women suffered from PMS.

One particular officer of the feminine persuasion was said to be the finest in all of the Imperial Army, and he had sent an urgent message to recall her to the capital. He had a special mission for her, one of huge personal significance. He only hoped the Ursula would prove capable.

Presently, he was at a dilemma, wanting to rush out to find his missing spouse, but he knew well that he was needed in the capital. The mess the human emperors had left was phenomenal, and his presence was needed to force things back under control. Also, were he to leave, another mortal would probably seize control of the Empire and make even more trouble.

He could hardly leave someone to guard his throne, for presently there were only three living beings he could trust not to betray him. One was his wife, who was presently missing, and the other two were A-Tun and Won-Qu, who knew nothing of ruling.

_Yet of greater importance, Yahla is lost, and she is weak and vulnerable. Mine senses canst not find her, but I mayest hardly abandon her. 'Tis a quandary I needs must answer…_

Fou-Lu closed his eyes, his arms crossed thoughtfully from where he sat at the apex of his throne room. The body of Soenil was still there. Servants had made some gesture to remove it but had proved unwilling to touch their ex-emperor's remains. It didn't really matter. The floor was already heavily stained, and it served as a strong encouragement to his subjects' cooperation.

Few of the subjects in question had willingly attended him, but he had enlisted a bevy of servants to carry word of his retaking of the throne and to request the presence of the desired officials.

Enough. He would worry about Yahla later. For now, Fou-Lu would deal with the matters at hand. Having already dealt with the military as fully as he presently could, other matters pressed. Foreign affairs, for one. For now, he was spent, and wished most highly to rest his weary mind.

Fou-Lu blinked sleepily, and looked down to where A-Tun and Won-Qu sat at the base of the stair that led up to his throne, mirroring one another's positions. A-Tun sat calmly, lion-like tail curled gracefully behind him. The Lion's tannish mane, tail and paws were the only spots of color in his thick white fur. Won-Qu's blue coat contrasted in comparison, but the two were obviously brothers, though Won-Qu more closely resembled a hound and had two wolf-like tails. Fou-Lu smiled down at them as the two turned as one to gaze adoringly up at him. They were both fanatically loyal and loved him unjudgingly.

"What wouldst thou, beloved master?" A-Tun asked, seeming eager to discover and follow his master's wishes.

Still smiling, his stress somewhat relieved by the presence of his guardians, Fou-Lu said, "I wouldst take mine rest, for I be much heavy with mine toil."

"Surely thy chamber is open," Won-Qu ventured.

"Verily, but there art matters I needs must take care of. 'Twould be unwise to leave such things unfinished." The smile faded and he looked seriously at his companions. "I wouldst give thee an errand."

The two brothers groveled, baring their throats as many animals did to show submission. "Whatever thy wish, 'twill be carried out."

Pushing himself up, Fou-Lu walked slowly down the stairs, reaching out to rub his companions' manes. Won-Qu leaned into his touch, getting scratched behind the ear in return. A-Tun got scratched under his chin, as was his preference.

"I wish thee search for one thou hast not met. Her name is Yahla, and she is mine wife," the emperor said seriously, meeting the brothers' eyes. "Thou knowest of her, as I hast spoken her name unto you. 'Tis possible for me to givest thee her image and scent, but I canst not givest thee a place whence to began, for I knowest not mineself." He couldn't keep his face totally blank, and Fou-Lu knew some of his worry shone through. "One of thee shalt stay with me, and guard against ills until mine empire regaineth its stability. I wouldst know which of thee wouldst set forth to find mine wife and returnest with her." He looked from face to face.

Won-Qu hesitated, and then volunteered. "I wilt go, master. 'Tis mine brother A-Tun that hath been separated from thee these years, and 'tis he that knoweth best the capital and those within."

Fou-Lu smiled. "Thou art willing, mine old friend? Very well. 'Twill be so. I wouldst thou quit this place anon, for 'tis of vital importance." Normally, he ordered the two about, but after all they had done for him he tried to give them a choice in matters when it was possible.

"Yes, milord." Won-Qu managed a sort of bow, and, with one last rub against the master's shoulder, padded softly from the room. As he left, Fou-Lu sent him Yahla's smell and picture.

A-Tun was left alone at his master's side, and the emperor leaned heavily against him. "I be tired, A-Tun, and much ill-used. I dost wish to retire for the night. Accompany me."

His side aching from the sword wound, Fou-Lu made his way slowly to his chambers, A-Tun offering silent support at his side. His old rooms had been closed up since his time (apparently the succeeding emperors had felt uncomfortable sleeping in the room of a god) and, except for dust removal by the occasional maid, had been untouched for centuries. The room remained unchanged since he had left, and he scarcely needed any light to tumble in to the elaborate bed. He divested himself of clothes and curled up in a rather odd position in an attempt to reduce the ache of his side. He fell asleep that way, not even bothering to pull up the covers.

A-Tun padded over to where his master slept naked and beautiful. Fou-Lu's face had relaxed in sleep, and his hands were curled into limp fists. A fine layer of hair was tangled around his face, covering about a fourth of his features. What was visible was angelic, a glorious and truly godly beauty. His slender and muscular torso rose and fell with each deep breath, the only movement his body was indulging in. Further down, narrow hips led into smooth and slender legs, both of which presently threatened to entwine with one another.

A-Tun gazed fondly at him, then took a corner of the sheets in his mouth and pulled them up over the sleeping dragon's shoulders. Then the Lion seated himself in front of the doorway and prepared to spend a long night on watch.

__

"And thy report?" the dragon-god demanded, leaning forward to regard the mortal callously. Seated on his raised throne, the spy was far below him, and he looked contemptuously down at the human.

Nervously, the spy swallowed. "We have narrowed down our suspects to a single group, Majesty. 'Twas a group of nations that apparently supported thine enemy and caused the recent incident."

Fou-Lu's eyes narrowed, both at the news and at the fact that the mortal was referring to Yahla's wounding and subsequent coma as an 'incident.' "What name claimest they?" He wanted revenge. They had attempted to kill him (that was bad enough), but instead had killed his unborn child and perhaps permanently taken his wife from him.

The human shuffled his feet, uncomfortable under the Endless' steel gaze. "They name themselves as the Alliance…prior intelligence has reported them as threatened by thy great power and conquests and them in possession of weapons similar to those that came into the rebel's hands."

Face frozen, Fou-Lu asked. "Which individuals hadth involvement?"

"Most of their leaders and ranking officials, sire," the spy replied.

If anything, the emperor's face turned even stonier. "Very well. Thou art dismissed." As the spy scurried from the room, Fou-Lu summoned one of the messengers. "Summon mine officers. Thou wilt inform them there is to be a council of war."

"Thou are doing what?" Mal-Heu blurted.

Fou-Lu smiled slightly, amused by his friend's stunned look. "I be granting thee promotion. Thou didst not ask for it, but 'tis deserved. And we wilt need good officers in the coming war," he added, knowing the soldier would most like attempt to refuse the promotion.

Mal-Heu still looked rather shocked. "Which position are thou putting me in?"

"Wam-Ren's," the dragon replied casually, making Mal-Heu choke on his own voice.

"Thou are putting me in command of thine army?" the mortal demanded incredulously, turning sharply to stare at the dragon. "But why?"

"Wam-Ren is incompetent." His tone firm, Fou-Lu regarded his friend seriously. "Whilst he doth a fair job in times of peace, he wouldeth be a hindrance in times of war. 'Tis thee, however, that is greatly popular amongst the common soldier and more vitally a trusted and competent commander. I knowst thou wouldst ne'er betrayeth me nor attempth to misuse thy power. Moreover, I canst trust thee to giveth thine opinion and suggestions whenas 'tis needed."

Mal-Heu shook his head ruefully. "I would think myself undeserving. The number of ranks thou has raised me is ridiculous."

Fou-Lu grinned, though, like all of his smiles, it was weaker than it had been since Yahla's injury. "Mayhap. Thine opinion matters not in this case. I shalt givest thee the rank regardless." He waved a hand airily.

Mal-Heu snorted. "Thou would, would thee not? Very well. I accept, if only because I, too, wish to get a piece of those responsible for Yahla's condition. Murdering bastards."

The mortal suddenly wished he hadn't mentioned the subject as the smile vanished from Fou-Lu's face. The dragon's fists clenched unconsciously and long nails drew blood from his palms. "Indeed, there wilt be vengeance. 'Tis unfortunate, however, for many an innocent shalt be needless destroyed. Yet, 'tis necessary, for those responsible shalt hardly layth down their miserable life to justice, and were they willing to attempt mine death once they shalt not be loath to try again." Mal-Heu watched edgily as Fou-Lu frowned. "'Tis a dilemma. As mineself, I wouldst seek their deaths and those of any who wouldth stand against mine justice. Yet…mine summons was to endst wars and forgest a new nation. Instead, I be starting a new one. Be it fair to mine people? E'en those that are new-come to our nation?" The last few renegade nations that had refused to join the empire had just given in, apparently cowed by Fou-Lu's extermination of the previous rebels.

"Perhaps, thou art unware of the unifying aspect of war," ventured Mal-Heu. Fou-Lu looked questioningly at him. "A common enemy can bring the most argumentative of groups together. Mayhap it will serve as the glue that will bring this empire together at last."

Fou-Lu nodded distractedly to acknowledge the mortal's statement. "Mayhap 'twill be so. Leaveth me now, mine friend. There is much I must think upon er these issues be resolved in mine mind."

The soldier bowed from the waist and exited, leaving the dragon alone to ponder the folly of both mortals and himself.

Fou-Lu suppressed a yawn as he rode majestically at the center of the armed column. The clip-clop of hooves was all around him, accompanied by the tramp of foot soldiers. Most of the mounted were officers, though there was a unit of cavalry as well. War horses stepped high, braided manes and tails elaborately done. Spread evenly throughout the force, the chargers kept up a good pace, and Fou-Lu had caught several of the infantrymen eyeing them enviously. The patchwork force of men and horses was headed to the Carronade, and the soldiers and their steeds were mostly for the benefit of watching citizens, since Fou-Lu was mostly certain he could handle everything on his own. Mostly…he was rather tired. 

Fou-Lu had slept poorly last night. He had been kept tossing and turning by dreams combined with a gripping sense of guilt that he was abandoning his Yahla. A-Tun had managed to drag him out of bed in spite of Fou-Lu's attempts to adhere himself to it, and the dragon had spent the morning uncharacteristically sleepy eyed.

He had taken most of the force residing at the capital, as he also wanted to keep his eye on them. Leaving a group of armed mortals alone at the seat of his power was too much like a recipe for disaster. Their mission was to deal with the Carronade and associated projects.

Fou-Lu had only learned of the gun's existence earlier that day and had set forth immediately to destroy it. He had been horrified upon hearing of a gun that shot hexes, for he was not only aware of the true horror and near-permanent damage done to hexed areas and the sacrifices such a gun would require, he also knew the danger associated with even using it. Besides, it reminded him too much of another gun, long ago. He was unhappy about abandoning the capital, but he had left A-Tun to guard it. Unlike the search for his wife, this should take little over a day, and the Empire could stand to wait that long, at least.

One of the officers accompanying him cantered up to his side, pulling on the reigns of his splotchy gelding. Foul had originally been startled to find that horses had started to replace Whelks as a beast of burden, but as he had never been that fond of whelks in the first place he had no problem making the transition. He himself sat poised on a black stallion and seemed to have melded seamlessly with the war-horse's saddle. He and the horse had an understanding…it would obey him and he wouldn't turn into a dragon and have it for dinner.

"Your Majesty," the officer exclaimed, managing a slight bow on horseback. The movement put him off balance, and the human nearly toppled off his mount. Apparently he had grown up riding whelks. "We're almost there. Might we know your orders, my lord?"

Fou-Lu turned in the saddle to regard the human, his piercing gaze making the mortal lower his eyes. His carriage on horseback was graceful and practiced, even though Fou-Lu had never actually ridden a horse before now. "We wilt reckon and infomest thee of thy duty at the time we reachest the city as see the contents there within."

The mortal blinked. "Say again?"

Fou-Lu ignored him and spurred his horse onwards. It was annoying how many of the present day humans seemed to have trouble understanding what he was saying. _Idiots…_

"I'm sorry, Sire, but you can't be serious!" Captain Shalmu, the ranking officer in the detachment accompanying him, exclaimed. The word 'serious' was particularly emphasized, as if he doubted the emperor's sanity level.

Fou-Lu's face remained mostly expressionless, but his eyes narrowed dangerously. To a wise individual, that would be a sign to back off. His voice became lethally soft, as if imitating the sleekest silk. "Thou wilt destroyest the weapon, Captain. 'Twas our order, and thou wouldst be wise to obey us. There wilt be no more hexes."

"But…God-Emperor! The Carronade is our primary defense against our enemies!" Shalmu had yet to realize the folly he was embracing by pursuing that line of argument.

"The gun be an offensive weapon, not one of defense. 'Tis meant to attack and terrorize, nary a once hath it been used to protect our people. 'Tis the weapon of a murderer, in that it kills as many innocents as guilty that it smites, and makes lands uninhabited for any to live there within. Thereto, it doth require human sacrifice, and imperils those who cast it." The emperor's voice was reasonable, seemingly friendly, and quite obviously a threat. His left hand rested casually on his thigh, the spot where the hilt of a sheathed sword would normally be. Yet another hint.

The human didn't seem to notice any of this. " Majesty, I'm afraid you're mistaken! We can't afford to throw away so powerful a---"

"Very well," Fou-Lu said pleasantly, cutting him off in mid-tirade. He thoughtfully drummed his fingers against his leg. "Be thou unwilling, thou art relieved of thy command. Remove thyself anon from our sight, er we slayest thee for thine insubordination." Fou-Lu's silvery blade appeared in his left hand and he suddenly looked menacing and cruel. This time, his threat actually got through to the thickheaded man.

Shalmu stuttered and stammered, then, after seeing his liege lord was quite serious, turned his horse. The gelding shied, then obeyed his command. The mortal started to gallop away, obviously still in shock.

"Thou shalt leavest the horse," Fou-Lu said, his voice ominous and devoid of mercy.

Pausing, the ex-captain dismounted with shaking hands, releasing the horse's reins to another soldier. Fou-Lu was still mounted, and the human stared up at him with some trepidation.

"And thy badge and sword," the dragon added, starting to enjoy himself. He was hardly a sadist…but the human so richly deserved it. Humiliating him was the least the emperor could do. "Thine uniform, as well."

The human, seeming finally to sense argument could have fatal results (and at very least humiliating ones), stripped down to his undergarments and stood shivering in the open air. 

Fou-Lu gazed rather contemptuously at the small man, who had the start of a beer belly and a flabby chest. "Thou art lucky thine underthings art not Imperial issue." He was taking his anger at his own situation out on the man, but he didn't really care.

Gathering the shreds of his dignity, former military officer Shalmu fled. Fou-Lu wondered briefly how the man would manage to find a new job when he was running around in his underwear.

The dragon god turned to look at the startled soldiers and officers who had stopped to watch the scene play out, and smiled toothily. "Wouldst any of thee be wanting a horse?"

For some reason, after that no one contested the orders the emperor gave. The Carronade was destroyed in record time, potentially useful scrap metals piled up, the rest of the gun trashed entirely. In fact, it was so thoroughly destroyed that some of the people who actually lived there complained about flying debris.

Fou-Lu himself decided to inspect the aqueduct that had powered the gun to see whether or not it could be rerouted to a more useful purpose. He had also heard that several of the empire's scientists had research and experiment room adjacent, and wanted to deal with them…personally. 


	10. Chapter 9 Free and Forced Labors

****

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Nine

Free and Forced Labors

The mortal Yuna had been busy…very busy…

The area was covered with his 'experiments' and notes, which Fou-Lu leafed through briefly. The pages were tattered and ink-splotched, but mostly legible. His face hardened as he noted the contents, and he replaced them with a grimace. They detailed a variety of atrocities, many of which involved sentient creatures as the subjects, and all of which were definitely inhumane. It was typical, and fit in with what he had gathered of Yuna's personality. Surveying the rest of the room, Fou-Lu stared momentarily at one of the experiments the kitsune had put on hold, where he had apparently been doing something unnatural to a frog. _This mortal wouldst pervert nature herself…were he not e'en now beyond the veil, I wouldst kill him another time._

He had seen similar and even more disturbing things in the rooms surrounding, including a large variety of cages and operation tables intended to secure unwilling subjects. There had been a room entirely full of torture devices. It was dominated by a rack, on which countless victims had been stretched and tormented. A wooden frame designed to crucify people had been placed beside it. In the corner was a scavenger's daughter, rusty from the blood of the victims it had secured over the years. Nearby, there had been an iron maiden, an steel frame in which a victim was enclosed and impaled on the spikes inside. A shelf had been full of smaller devices- thumbscrews, pincers, pliers, hooks, clamps, metal brands, iron boots, a number of weights, manacles and shackles of every imaginable kind, and a whole array of knives. Others had been there as well, instruments whose names his did not know. Leg irons and chains had littered the area, and suspicious bloodstains had turned the stone floor red. Several different restraints had been laid up against the walls. Included were a Scold's Bridle (a metal cage for the head with a bladed gag) and a neck iron with spikes about the rim.

The papers here detailed the outrages that Yuna's devices had been put to. They were as numerous as they were terrible.

A torch had been lit to illume the way, and Fou-Lu lifted it from its stand. His nocturnal eyes did not need its light, but the flambeau could serve other purposes. As he lowered it to the dry parchment, he smiled grimly. _There art certain things that ne'er shouldth be known…_ Aged paper made a satisfactory blaze, tongues of yellow and red flame licking up through the entire pile of research. For once, even a Water Dragon like Fou-Lu found fire useful.

The little pile of embers was still smoldering as he moved on into the next room.

Like many things in Yuna's rooms, it was an abomination, a creature that had been twisted out of recognizable shape and form. From waist up, it was a women, delicately beautiful and golden haired. However, where its hips started it became swollen and gross, a bloated mass of entrails that reached such size that they became part of the building itself. It had been human at one point, though it was impossible to tell what clan, and drew to mind the body of an engorged queen termite. Presently, it appeared to be sleeping, which was a blessing as he hardly wanted to see how badly the mind of the subject had been damaged.

_The fool…_ Fou-Lu thought in shock as he circled Yuna's most terrible experiment. _Didth he truly believeth he couldth create an Endless? Greater fool he…a mortal canst not gaineth such power by such a method…_

Approaching the head of the creature, he intended only to put it out of its misery. His sword flashed to hand, but he hesitated as he was about to plunge it down into the monstrosity's writhing guts. Surely, it would be a mercy…but perhaps…On an impulse, he banished the blade and put his hands to either side of the creature's face. Eyes lidded, he sent a tendril of power into the perversion's body. This probably wasn't a good idea…he was already tired, and it wouldn't do to become too vulnerable.

A bright glow overtook him, encasing his skin in a blue shimmer that danced in sparks and glimmers along the length of his body. The gleaming wave spread out from his hands, sinking down into the flesh of the creature and passing through the floor and walls as if they were as insubstantial as mist. As it infused tissue and blood, it grew lighter, turning to a gold so very bright that Fou-Lu was forced to turn his head away least he be blinded by it.

When the glow faded, a mortal lay where an unnatural Endless had been before, and Fou-Lu withdrew his hands, feeling suddenly his age (six hundred and thirty-five.) He sagged, then backed up suddenly as the little mortal opened her blue eyes.

They stared at each other for a moment, his gaze cool and collected, hers frightened, before the little windian sat up. She hugged her knees to her chest, golden hair running over her back. White wings folded themselves tightly around her as she seemed to shrink into herself. "Who…where?" the girl stammered, her voice a child-like soprano. 

Taking pity upon her, Fou-Lu answered. He dropped the 'royal we' seeing as it would only confuse the poor child. "Mine name is Fou-Lu…and thou art within the aqueducts that didst fuel the Carronade. And thou art…?" he queried, looking the mortal woman up and down. She was naked, but it would hardly bother a dragon, for they are prone to going nude anyway. And besides, it wasn't like he was interested…he had eyes for only one female.

"Elina," the girl replied, apparently too shaken to recognize his name. "Please…what happened?" 

The emperor eyed her curiously, smoothing a white strand of hair back out of his face. "Dost thou not recallest what was done to thee?"

Elina froze, then a series of shivers racked her slender form. "I remember…" she whispered. "How could I have been so blind to believe that they wished me well." The windian lowered her face to her knees, silvery tears running wet down her long legs. Fou-Lu watched dispassionately before offering her a handkerchief he had found in among Yuna's possessions. Elina took it gratefully and blew her nose, after drying off her face. It was a delicate sound, at odds with the usual full-blown snort most humans employed. Even when crying, the mortal still managed to look beautiful, without the reddened splotching most of her race got. 

"Thank you," the windian said after another good blow. She held the hankie back out to him, apparently recovered. The sodden bit of cloth hung limp and unappealing from her fingers. "Here. I'm sorry… I've gotten it all wet and dirty," she apologized.

He waved her off, eyeing the kerchief with distaste. _For what reason wouldst I be wanting a rag sullied with mortal excretions...?_ "'Tis not mine in any matter. I but happened upon it. Thou mayest keep it."

"Thank you," Elina repeated, sounding rather insipid. She buried her face back in the soggy fabric.

Watching her cry for ten minutes straight did nothing to improve Fou-Lu's temper. _Thy wailing is tiresome, mortal! Wilt thou not cease? _he thought moodily, trying to block out the sound of her whimpers. Eventually, he snapped in irritation, "Quit thy wailing, woman! Thine mortal form hath been returned unto thee! Thou hast naught to cry about!"

The mortal hiccuped and looked up at him through red-rimmed eyes. "You're right…and I'm sorry. I'm being horrible, aren't I?" She shakily got to her feet, to all appearances unaware of her nudity. "We were never properly introduced, were we? I'm Elina, princess of Windia. Was it you that got rid of that awful curse? What did you say your name was?"

Fou-Lu blinked, then narrowed his eyes calculatingly. Several wheels turned in his head, and he smiled slightly. A windian princess… "Yes, 'twas I. I be Fou-Lu, God-Emperor and founder of the Fou Empire."

The woman froze, one hand going up to cover her partly agape mouth. Wide-eyed, she protested, "But that's impossible! The First Emperor died centuries ago!"

Smirking, he replied dryly, "Hardly. A god doth not die. On a differing matter, art thou ware that thy body be utterly unclothed?"

"What?" she asked blankly, before looking down at herself.

Her scream made him wince and his ears rang in protest as Elina attempted to cover as much of her exposed body as possible.

After staring a moment, Fou-Lu sighed. "Wouldst thou like mine shirt?"  


Somewhat more decently clothed, the princess apologized profusely for borrowing his clothes and dealing injury to his eardrums. Fou-Lu was starting to think apologizing profusely was the only thing she was good for. "I'm so sorry…" She was wearing his undershirt like a tunic. Even though he wasn't too much taller than she it still came down to her mid thighs. It merely emphasized how tiny she was. His outmost shirt had been wrapped about her waist and tied with the sleeves. As everything was silk, it clung and left very little to the imagination, but the human still seemed reassured by its presence, even if she wasn't as composed as she usually would be.

Fou-Lu, on the other hand, was just as comfortable and compose as ever, even though he was half-naked. However, the girl's constant apologies were harping on his nerves. "There is naught to apologize for, so I wouldst appreciate thy dropping of the subject." The windian blushed and mumbled something, so he changed the topic. "How camest thee unto this pass? What doth a princess the Alliance," he said with a sneer, "Do within the Empire?"

Elina looked ready the cry again, and she crumpled the hankie in her hands. The soggy cloth clung to her fingers as she picked at a tattered edge. "I was stupid. We have a temporary truce, and I thought…it might encourage peace if I visited this land."

"'Twas not the case, I wouldst guess." His sarcasm wasn't lost on her, and she stiffened and looked away.

"A scholar name Yuna offered to guide me through the Empire, and I accepted…" Her voice was sad and soft, that of a lost child recounting past folly. "But when they got me into the Empire," she sniffed, a tear running down her cheek, "Yuna took me here and told me I was a fool and would be used in the Carronade. Only, instead…" She ducked her head, apparently unable to complete the thought.

"Thou wert turned to an Endless," Fou-Lu finished for her, arms crossed contemplatively on his bare chest. Elina nodded miserably, several more tears tracing their way over her pale cheeks.

They stood silently like that for some time, before Elina ventured rather tremulously, "You did say your name was Fou-Lu, didn't you?"

"Yes," he replied, never glancing her way.

"How can that be?" she pressed. "The First Emperor ruled hundreds of years ago. By now he would be well over five hundred years old! No one can live that long!"

"Thou art assuming, princess," Fou-Lu turned his head to regard her perfunctorily. "That the First Emperor thou speakest of was mortal. He was not."

Elina, heir to the Windian throne, met his gaze and noticed for the first time the oddities surrounding him. The eyes that regarded her in such a blasé manner were golden, as if they had been gilt with aureate overlay. His hair was white, inclined to reflect the colors around it. And the ears in which twin rubies dangled were pointed. Her voice sounding suddenly too loud in her ears, Elina asked breathlessly, "What…are you?" 

The dragon smiled slowly, arrogance in the tilt of his head. His teeth were a bit more pointed than they probably should have been, and Elina shuddered. "Thou needs not know, little one. Suffice to say I be perdurable, and mine power is beyond mortal imagining." Elina was silent as he went on. "What I be mattereth little. Thou wilt return to thine Alliance," Again, the sneer at the mention of that name. "And informest unto them that this war be o'er, as it ought have been hundreds of years prior. Thou shalt be telling them that the First Emperor hath returned to his throne, and that Soenil perished by useless defiance."

"Emperor Soenil is dead?" Hugging herself, she asked the next question. "Yuna…the scholar…what of him?:

Impassive, his gaze never faltered. It was cool and collected, and (to a windian princess) very frightening. "He and his associates have perished. They no longer art a threat to thee."

She hesitated, her voice hushed. "You killed them, didn't you?"

Fou-Lu ignored her questions. "Travel unto Windia." He tossed her a bag of coins, yet another handy thing he had found among Yuna's possessions.. "Use this to pay thy way." As an afterthought, he picked up on of the sheets of blank paper Yuna had left lying around. A pen was quickly scrounged up, and Fou-Lu scrawled out a note, folded it, and stamped it with hot wax from a nearby candle and the signet ring he always carried and never wore. After checking the sigil, he gave it to her. "This shall permit thee pass any guards here and beyond to our borders. I wouldst quit this place, wert I thee."

Distressed, Elina protested, "But I haven't anything to wear!"

A sigh. "Verily…I mayest regret this later, but I wouldst suppose thou canst keep the shirts."

Another day, another difficulty. Won-Qu had not yet returned, and Fou-Lu was wondering whether he should send A-Tun out as well. Of course, it had been little over a day since Won-Qu had set out, but still… And, to top things off, he had just been informed that the Causeway was broken, which meant it would be practical for him either to fix it or build a new one…of course, when did he have the time?

Fou-Lu sighed and went on writing, quill pen inking up the pads of his fingers. The writing utensil not only blotted up his hands, it also bespattered the parchment he was presently writing on. After several more smears of ink, he threw both away and retrieved a new pen and paper. A-Tun, who sat next to him, laid his head down on the desk.

He was writing out a rather official document, a declaration of peace between the Alliance and the Empire. Permanently, unforeseen circumstances notwithstanding. It would be written, signed, and sealed by him, and a delivered to the Alliance's ambassadors. They would work out the smaller details with his own emissaries, and the Alliance would hopefully agree that, yes, the war was over.

If they did, they would at least be smarter than many of his own soldiers. Fou-Lu penned the last few lines, signed, and started to seal up the document. Many of the mortals subject to his reign had always been at war with the Alliance, and were unwilling to think of them as anything but ancestral enemies. The fact that the war had gone on for generations and most of his subjects had a relative or friend that had been killed in it didn't help. Finally, the letter was sealed, stamped, and signed. It lay crisply folded on his desk, and he gazed moodily at it. _'Tis ironic so small a thing shalt have so great an effect… or ought, shouldeth all go well…_

A knock. Fou-Lu opened the door to admit the messenger, who gasped out that Captain Ursula had arrived. After handing the letter to the courier and giving instructions on its delivery, Fou-Lu strode off in search of the elusive captain, A-Tun padding behind him. Finally, he would be able to talk with someone capable.

"You want me to do what, Your Majesty?" the diminutive captain asked with some disbelief. The kitsune, black haired and dusky, with the bone structure of a bird, eyed him as though he was insane. Her fragile looking body held a good mind, but one that balked at the idea of the person she was supposed to find. Dragons were supposed to be children's tales…

"Thou art to find a dragon," Fou-Lu responded, his tone making it clear that he was serious. Had she doubted that, his face bore an unmistakable no-nonsense look. "A female of our race, with child. In a mortal form, she is alike ourself, white of hair and gold of eye. In a transformed state, she taketh the guise of winged humanoid, green of skin and well scaled. She hath a tail," he added, apparently as an afterthought.

"Is that so?" Ursula appeared somewhat skeptical, but the fact that she was presently talking to a dragon with several hundred years under his belt helped dissipate her doubts. "It is a simple enough task to find her, I suppose. I've heard dragons are fairly noticeable. Where was she last seen?"

The emperor smiled grimly. "Therein layeth the problem. She mayest well be anywhere. We dost not know."

This news apparently didn't make the kitsune's life any easier. "What's her name? It may help me find her."

"Yahla. She is our wife," Fou-Lu said, still smiling.

Ursula stared at him a moment before she shook herself. "I don't even want to know."

"Wise decision." Fou-Lu looked amused. "When thou hast found Yahla, thou art to bring her hither. Upon finding her, thou wilt followest her orders as if they wert ours, save any that contradict our orders to thee. Layest no hand upon her. She is our wife, and pregnant with our heir. Thou wilt protect her at all costs." The smile faded and his face grew stony. "An you fail, thou mayest as well not return. Shouldest mischance strike and she be dead, thou wilt return with her body."

"You want me to bring her back even if she's dead. Got it. I'll carry out your wishes, Your Majesty," she promised, tiny face solemn. Fou-Lu smiled. The captain might not believe in the existence of the person she had been sent to find, but she was dedicated enough to venture forth anyway. He had expected such from her performance records.

"Thank thee, Captain. We wilt hold thee to that."


	11. Chapter 10 Hither and Yon

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Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

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-Thanks to everyone who has read my work so far. In particular, I'd like to thank 'Windigo the Feral NYAR' for reading and reviewing my story. I would read and review yours, Windigo, but when I checked you didn't have any. Don't worry, I will continue, and Fou-Lu and Yahla should end up back together…eventually. ^_^ In fact, here we're back to Yahla, who's been lying around unconscious since we last mentioned her. The lazy bum… I apologize for taking so long to write more. My brain died, and my vocabulary went to the bathroom and got stuck in the toilet. We had to call a plumber. This chapter is rather short, but it was such a good place to end ^_^. Oh, and you lurkers out there (if you exist, that is) please review, or no more will be posted. And remember, it's not a threat, it's a promise.

Want fries with that?

Chapter Ten

Hither and Yon

She had been asleep for a long time. 

That was the first thought that asserted itself as consciousness returned to her inert body. As it made itself known, other senses returned; the breath of air over bare skin, the earth harsh and unyielding against her back. There came the unequivocal drone of nothing, and the weight of limbs that had lain too long unmoving. Her wings were numb from where they had been constrained against the ground, crumpled under the weight of her form. Her nose contributed nothing useful to help her reorient herself. The breeze that wafted over her naked body carried no unusual scents or smells, at least none that she associated to familiar locations. 

It was dark, but her eyes were closed, though she had not noticed it until just then. Yahla opened them with some effort, blinking the crustiness from her lashes. Her sight now unhindered by a veil of lids, she remained sheathed in obscurity, but a little more could be seen. Primarily, a red glow highlighted the different facets of the pockmarked stone ceiling above her, growing clearer as she adjusted her eyes. It was granite from appearances, an ashen wall of igneous rock that had formed on the interior of the earth.

Yahla cursed weakly as she pulled herself into a sitting position, arms going to hug her midsection as it twinged in protest. Her eyes closed and she swayed slightly. Her skin felt dry and doughy, and her hands seemed cold and clammy in spite of the warmth around her. She had no obvious wounds, but her body ached everywhere, as if there were bruises layering her insides. Her stomach added nausea to her other pains, and she doubled over abruptly and threw up.

After several minutes of retching, she had nothing left to bring up, not even stomach acids. With the taste of bile in her throat, the dragoness wiped her mouth clean on the back of her hand, grimacing at her inability to dislodge the unpleasant taste. She raised bleary eyes to peruse the surroundings, hoping unrealistically for a pool of water to wash away the acerbity. There was nothing. The area around her was barren and dry, much like the inside of her uncomfortably sticky mouth. The part of her mind that still functioned normally realized that there would be no water for some time, for she sat on one of several islands and paths that rose from a lake of searing magma. It flowed in viscous waves around and over slabs and boulders, radiating the vermilion light that was the only illumination. 

The heat was suffocating, dehydrating anything and anyone that came within its grasp. Yahla not only had nothing to drink, she had lain unconscious in such conditions for several days. Goddess or not, she was getting close to death.

When she attempted to stand, she found herself dizzy and unable, sinking limply back to the ground. Her heartbeat sounded weak and irregular in her ears, and it was far more rapid than it should be. Likewise, the dragoness' respiration was shallow and quickened, one panting breath after another. 

_I be not comprehending…_ she thought dazedly, _I be a dragon…I shouldst not be so affected… _A dragon at the peak of its powers needed neither eat nor drink. But Yahla and Fou-Lu were flawed, and thus required both. However, they could go months without, if need be, and Yahla was quite certain that that much time had not passed. Something had happened, weakening her, and in her confused state Yahla did not immediately understand the implications. _'Tis as though I hast become…mortal…_

Tired and disoriented, her muscles starting to cramp, Yahla gave into the urge to sleep. 

A warm liquid dribbled between her lips, soaking into the parched tissue of her mouth, and the hand that massaged her throat compelled her to swallow. At this point it wasn't really necessary. She was starting to wake up, and instinct would encourage her to swallow on her own.

For a while, when she was deeply unconscious, her body would not have done so by itself, and she would have choked to death without aid.

Yahla moaned and her head lolled to the side, the broth that was being carefully administered between her chapped lips running out the side of her mouth and into her hair. There was a string of creative cursing, and her face was wiped off with a damp cloth. The harsh fabric grazed her cheek, and she groaned and awoke fully. 

Her mind still full of dreams of fire and desert, her eyes eased open, then flew the rest of the way unclosed. Had she the strength she would most like have pulled away, startled by the sudden sight of a face adjacent to her own. Instead, she choked on the broth still in her mouth and started coughing. 

The short mortal that had been seated next to her drew back as the dragoness tried in earnest to launch her lungs out of her chest cavity to somewhere across the room. Her eyes blurred as she attempted to catch her breath before the next spasm hit.

"Heigh ho, lassie! Easy there! Trying to hock a lung, are you?" a gruff voice said kindly, and its owner helped her sit up and patted her on the back until her coughs subsided. His arm presently supporting her, he continued, "Looks like you've been getting things down the wrong tube, there. Now, lie back and make yourself comfy. Isn't for you to be trying to move about already."

Yahla cleared her throat, and replied hoarsely, "I be thanking thee," as the dwarf assisted her to lay back down on the sleeping pad he had spread on the floor. It was green, too short, and lacking in blankets. From appearances Yahla would guess that the dwarf had none and did not need them. It was unusually warm, and blankets would only overheat the wearer. "Mayest I be knowing who aideth me thus?" She coughed again for several moments, before she got herself back under control.

The dwarf, who could stand no higher than four feet, smiled at her through his extensive beard. The whitened whiskers were the only hairs he had. He was completely bald otherwise, even lacking eyebrows that had apparently been singed off at some point. His nose dominated most of his face, as red as the skin around it. The color of his face remained permanently flushed due to constant exposure to heat and hard labor. "You're welcome, then. I'm Dalindrar, a smith." He handed her a cup of water, which she held in her shaky hands. "If you're well enough to drink by yourself, down as much of that as you can. I'm off to make you up some more broth." The blacksmith's rough face looked vaguely sheepish. "I'm sorry to say what I'd already got made up is at the present all over your front."

Yahla glanced down, found herself partly covered in soup, and decided to deal with it later. Right now, she would drink as much water as her stomach would take, and then drink some more in an attempt to revitalize her dehydrated body. As she drank, she surveyed the area around herself, taking note of the scarcity of any decorations or trimmings. The only personal touches she saw were three weapons that had been mounted on the wall, two swords and an axe. They, too, were functional objected, bare of anything but cold steel.

Where she and her bed had been laid, the floor was wooden. Planks had been sanded down and laid parallel to one another, and a trap door had been laid next one of the house's two windows. Farther into the main room, the floor was stone, though of a darker shade than the brick walls. There was a stack of crates and a cracked pot near where she lay, and beyond that what appeared to be some manner of forge. A box of coal and a hammer were set up against the wall, and in the center of the area was a black anvil sooty and scratched from use. Beyond, a massive hearth rose, connected to dozens of pipes that lead off into the walls. A chimney started at the top, gathering the smoke form the fiery coals below. It was an impressive set up, obviously tended carefully. The forge and surrounding tools took up half the house, and it was clear that the dwarf's first love was his work.

Several minutes and a great deal of water later, Dalindrar returned with another bowl, this one soup in which floated several chunks of meat. It wasn't much of a broth. It was more a stew, thick and rich. He proffered it to her, and she took it gratefully. "Hopefully, this time it won't end up all over everything."

He hadn't offered her a spoon or anything, so she used her claws to spear the bobbing pieces of meat, before drinking the rest. It was rather difficult to do lying down, but the goddess didn't fancy sitting up any time soon. She still felt far too invalid to manage such a thing. The soup was surprisingly good for something made by a mortal who appeared to lack any kind of silverware.

As she ate, the smith watched her, seeming to examine her from head to toe. It was not a rude look, nor a lascivious one. It was simply curiosity, but it made the dragoness vaguely uncomfortable. As she finished up, she remarked, more to break the silence that anything else, "Verily, thy potage is most savory."

The dwarf looked searchingly at her, and she shifted under his gaze. "You're saying you like the soup?" he asked at last.

"Yes," Yahla replied, not understanding the question. The language truly had shifted over the years. She hardly understood a word the dwarf was saying. "For what purpose dost thou inquirest?"

"Why didn't you just say that, then?" the smith questioned, grinning. "It's a lot easier than using all those big words, lass."

"I didst sayest this!" she huffed from her position on the floor. "Dost thou findest mine manner of speech someway laughable?" Even though she was ill and incapable of strenuous movement, her tone implied deadly consequences.

"Ho…" Dalindrar said to forestall her fuming. "Don't be getting your dander up, now. I just was joking with you. I fess, I, too, get made the laughingstock for how I talk. City folks think I'm an old hillbilly, and that I talk all folksy. Leastwise, they say its 'quaint' and 'cutesy.' I'll show them 'quaint!'"

She studied him with new interest. "I wouldst take it that thy speech is unsemblable to that of most present day mortals?"

"Yeah, you could say that, heigh ho," the dwarf said with some sarcasm. "Didn't you notice?"

Yahla shrugged. "All humans soundeth as one to me."

This time it was Dalindrar that fumed at the comment, much as she had expected, and she laughed softly to herself. "I'm a dwarf! There's a mighty big difference!" He paused, and glanced back at her. He put a thick hand up to scratch the back of his bald head as he eyed her contemplatively. "But that does bring up a good point. What are you?"

Yahla suddenly understood all his curious looks. She was in her normal hybrid form, of course, and though it was hardly worth noticing to her, it was certainly enough to make any mortal stare. Especially since she was covered in dried blood that was not her own. "I be a dragon, an Endless." She watched him carefully, curious to see his reaction. 

The dwarf stared at her, twirling the wiry tip of his beard between his callused fingers. He didn't seem to notice he was doing it. Finally, he demanded in a rather harsh tone, "Dragons are supposed to be gods, right? If that's the case and you're one, what in hell were you doing dying of dehydration in the middle of a volcano."

"What I wert doing? For a great tract of time I layest dead to the world," she offered.

"That's not what I meant and you know it. How'd you end up in that fix?" When she looked uninclined to answer, he added, "For several days I've gone to a mighty hassle trying to get you back to health. The least you could do is answer my questions."

"I wilt be the first to admitest that I knowest not," Yahla said finally. "But one moment I be with mine husband, the I be awakening amid pools of molten stone."

"…Your husband?" the dwarf asked, raising a hairless brow.

"Mayhap thou knowest him. He is Fou-Lu, God-Emperor of the Fou Empire," the goddess said, unable to keep the twinge of pride out of her voice.

He stared open mouthed at her, meeting her steady gaze. At last, Dalindrar shook himself and responded, "Ho…you damn well better be joking, lassie. His Nibs?" The smith said it like it was the most impossible thing in the world.

She smiled slightly, finding amusement and fond memories in the invocation of her husband's name. "I jokest not. He is mine mate. Please," she added after a moment. "Wilt thou tellest me where we art? For I wishest to be wise to how far from mine husband's side I be."

The dwarf finally found his voice, though it was a great deal less steady than it had been. "Ho.…damn, lassie. You're under Mount Glom…smack dab in the center of the Alliance."


	12. Chapter 11 Niether Mortal Nor God

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Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

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Chapter Eleven

Neither Mortal Nor God

"Please, bespeaken unto me and sayest thou speakest a falsity," Yahla requested, somewhat stunned by the news. If what the dwarf said was true, she was on the other side of the world from the Empire, and thus, her husband.

"I'm afraid that I can't," the dwarf replied, looking genuinely regretful as he spoke. He sighed heavily, rustling the corners of his beard. "Leastwise not honestly."

"What sayest thou?! 'Tis infeasible that I shouldst come to light halfway about the earth whence I…" Her voice trailed of, and she was silent for a long time, the life seeming to go out of her. Softly, the dragoness said at last, in a low and miserable voice, "…Methinks 'tis a irremeable situation. Lorn and thus affected, what chance is there that I mayest be finding mine way home…?" The goddess still wasn't quite certain what was causing her weakness and why she had suddenly become so vulnerable to mortal difficulties. But she knew that if she remained weak that there would be no way for her to survive a journey over half a world. She would be helpless, as prone as the mortals themselves. And just as likely as they to die.

Dalindrar patted her shoulder reassuringly, his heavy hand harsh against her skin. She responded to his gesture after a second, pulling away from him the best she could. "There, there, lassie. You needn't be all worried about that, now. Heigh ho!" he said with an obvious attempt at cheerfulness. It failed to earn any acknowledgement from the bed-ridden goddess. "As of today and the days after it, you just worry about getting yourself back on your feet! Till you get yourself back up to speed, you can stay here, with me. We'll have you fixed up in a jiffy!" 

"I wouldst accept thine offer, for there be little else I canst do." Yahla sounded terribly worn all of a sudden, a tinge of defeat lacing her very manner. It was as though the weight of all the years she had spent asleep had come to roost on her shoulders. "But for what reason dost thou burden thyself? I be not of thy race, nor art thou bounden to me in any manner." Her weary voice was bitter as she finished, "Why wouldst thou wish to save a broken goddess gilt in the blood of mortal kind?"

"Ho…" His broad head tilted to the side as he thumbed his chin, an uncommonly serious look on his face. "I don't know about you being broken, but I've always been mighty good at fixing things. And I like a challenge. Fixing up a goddess sure sounds like one to me." She showed no reply to his statement, so the dwarf plunged on. "'Sides, if I was to leave someone out to die, no matter their race or how biggity they think themselves, my conscious would never let me live it down. Just you rest up, there, and I'll leave you alone to get some shut-eye."

Making good his word, he tromped away to another part of the house, and though she turned her head in an attempt to follow his movement, the pile of crates blocked her view. Weary and too weak to do anything else, Yahla took his advise and let sleep claim her.

"Hand me that doohickey, would you?" The dwarf called over his shoulder as he tinkered with one of the pipes that kept the forge and bellows running. The massive metal tubes required a great deal of maintenance, and Dalindrar had developed a wide variety of tools to help him fix minute details.

"What?" Yahla asked blankly, looking from one tool to another. She was propped up nearby against the section of pipe the dwarf wasn't busy repairing. 

"The doohickey," he said patiently. While it was helpful to have an extra person to hand him things, it would be even more helpful if said person knew which tool he was talking about. "No, not that one, that's the hootenanny. The doohickey. No, that's the thingamajig…yes, there, that one. Good." Taking the tool in hand, he went back to his repairs.

Yahla had spent the first two days after her awakening bedridden, relapsing into the unconscious state Dalindrar had been required to feed and water her through. On the third day she had woken, but remained too weak to do anything. Now, four days after she first found herself under the dwarf's care, the dragoness was stronger and more energetic, and unwilling to simply lie around. She wasn't recovered enough to stand, but she could sit again, and make good use of her arms. Finally, Dalindrar gave her a job simply to keep her busy, and she had seized it as something to do besides sleep.

"I dost not comprehend this," Yahla complained as she watched him make another infinitesimal (and practically indiscernible) adjustment. In spite of the dwarf's small height, he was very solidly built, and from appearances shouldn't have had the dexterity required for such delicate repairs. Appearances, however, weren't everything. Dalindrar handled details with the air of a true craftsman, and it was obvious he could hold his own against slimmer, more delicately fingered mortals. "Meseems these tools are all as one."

"They aren't," Dalindrar contradicted as he turned back to get another tool. "See here, this one's hooked on the edge, while the other one's got the ridges. And of course you got widget, that's this one here, with the little file at the end. They're all mighty dinky, but they got little differences, if you know where to look."

"I dost not like this," she contended, picking at one of the tools with a claw. "I canst not tellst the difference between…what dost thou call it, a thinamagigit, and a dingbat."

Dalindrar chuckled lightly as he continued his work. "Well, I'd offer you something else to do, lassie, but it doesn't look like you're up to any of it. Hand me that whatchamacallum, would you?"

Yahla sighed, well aware of the new restrictions her body was enacting on her, and did so.

The dwarf's broad hand helped steady her as she retched violently, splattering the insides of the battered pot with her stomach contents. The smell hit her in the face, and she wrinkled her nose before another series of heaves hit her and left her gasping. It was just as well she hadn't had breakfast yet, as she would simply have lost it all anyway. At last, Yahla regained control of her stomach and braced herself against rim of the bowl, sagging. She felt limp and worn out, even though it was but the first thing in the morning and she had been awake but five minutes.

Dalindrar pushed a cup of water into her hand and she accepted it gratefully, gargling and spitting into the already soiled bowl. The taste mostly gone from her mouth, she swallowed what remained in the cup.

"Ho…and here I'd been thinking you were getting better," the smith remarked in sympathy, staying at her side should she need assistance.

"I as well," she replied as she reclaimed her feet, both of which seemed unwilling to go anywhere. As the dragoness wobbled, the dwarf was there to help her back to the bed, where she collapsed with profound relief.

Indeed, it had seemed but the day before that she was on the mend. Yahla had managed to walk several feet before her energy ran out, and she had regained some of her usual vitality. The goddess had had even enough energy to wash herself off with a rag and pail of water her host provided, removing some old bloodstains and the soup that had dried to the skin. Today, instead of continuing her trend of recovery, she had started the morning by throwing up. Definitely not how she had wanted to start the new day.

"Still nauseous, lass?" the smith asked, reflexively checking her forehead for fever. She nodded miserably, the look on her face reflecting her churning insides. "Stay there, then, and I'll whip you up some breakfast. It might help if you get something down."

The idea of eating anything wasn't exactly charming, but Dalindrar had managed to get her a good bit closer to health, and she was fairly certain he knew what he was talking about. She settled herself back to wait, grimacing as her touchy stomach gurgled ominously. _I be not wishing to disgorge my stomach eftsoons…_

Dalindrar returned before she could decide whether to stay in place or make a break for the barf-bowl. He had several chunks of hard bread and some more water in hand. "I put some soup on, but it isn't done yet. In the meantime, have a bit of this."

As she gnawed on a hard cracker, her stomach did loop-de-loops around her spinal cord. The flat bread, though hard and about as textured as a piece of cardboard, was bland, which was what she needed right now. The repetitive task of chewing gave her time to think, which the dragoness did in earnest. _I dost not comprehend. I hast ne'er been so in malady hitherto. In truth…mayhap once, but that I reckon not, for I wert heavy with…_

Following that train of thought to its end, Yahla's chewing slowed and then stopped all together, as she suddenly understood what was going on. Swallowing convulsively, she whispered to herself, "I be with child." It all made sense. When she was expecting, she was vulnerable, her power drained to support the baby. Her weakness was not some mortal illness, but a pregnancy, and her nausea…morning sickness. 

"What's that, eh?" Dalindrar asked cheerfully as he approached with a bowl of soup in each hand. Lost in her own thoughts, she had not noticed him coming. 

Startled, she blurted out, "I be teeming!"

"You're what?" he said, raising a brow. "What's teem?"

Yahla, having forgotten language shift briefly, rephrased her statement. "I be gestating," she explained, a hand going to touch her stomach.

"You're what?" he repeated, a bowl of soup escaping his grasp. It landed upside down on the wood floor, a puddle of broth spreading out from under it.

She briefly cursed the language barrier, trying, "I be pregnant," but he shook of her attempt.

"No, I understood that part mighty well, but…damn. Ho…who's is it, and what am I supposed to do? Don't know the least about taking care of pregnant women."

"'Tis mine husband's," she said, reaching to take the remaining bowl of soup from Dalindrar's hands before he dropped that one, too. Hard cracker in one hand and soup in the other, she continued, "He is the only one I hath e'er engaged in venery."

The dwarf coughed, and, to her surprise, blushed. His already red face turned so dark it seemed nearly purple in places. "That was a tad bit more than I wanted to know. So…that Fou-Lu feller knocked you up, eh? Didn't know gods could have kids."

"Well, I be not wise to why it is any of thy concern, but," she cleared her throat, not sure exactly how to speak of such things, "I be a goddess of fertility, in truth."

"Oh." The dwarf seemed to register the statement and his face turned colors again. "Oh!" A pause. "Is that why you don't wear any clothes?"

Yahla glared at him, indignant. _Mortals and their araiments..._ "Nay! Clothes be a mortal concept! Dragons need it not!"

"Wonders never cease! Dragon nudists!" Dalindrar got a bowl of soup in the face for his efforts. The warm liquid ran down his chin and dripped from the tip of his nose, as he stood still in shock. "Well, guess you're feeling better. You're snippety again," he commented as he wiped soup out of his eyes

Surprised, the goddess examined herself, and found she was indeed improved. Yahla wasn't in the mood to risk it, however, so she remained lying down. _Mayhap I ought be tossening soup at mortals more oft…_ She nibbled on her hard cracker as Dalindrar tromped off, attempting to wring the soup out of his beard. 

"What will you name the babe?" Dalindrar asked as he sipped at a bowl of stew. He had washed off the soup from earlier, and now, in the evening, he sat near Yahla's bed as they had supper. It was, of course, stew and hardtack, the only supplies he had readily on hand. Isolated under a volcano, there was little opportunity to trade for better foodstuffs, and so the dwarf made do with what he could forage for or catch.

Yahla took another draught of her own meal, swishing it around in her mouth before swallowing. The salty tasty was refreshing, but she had had soup so often in the past few days that she was starting to get tired of it. "He shall be Yori, most belike." _'Tis fitting, to be giving him the name his brother ne'er lived to carry…_

"What if it's a lass, not a lad?" he queried, swirling a hard cracker around in his bowl. Softened, the flat bread yielded more easily to his teeth, though it remained chewy. Hardtack was never anything less than a chore to eat.

"It be not a girl. I knowest." The dragoness smiled at Dalindrar's doubtful look. "I canst sense such things," she assured him, amused at his mortal skepticism.

"So says the lassie that didn't even realize she was pregnant till she started throwing up," the dwarf said, smirking as she hefted her bowl threateningly in his direction. "Now, now, lassie, you wouldn't be beating up on a poor oldster like myself."

She snorted derisively, but lowered the bowl of soup. "Verily, thou art not yet antediluvian. I be hundreds of years beyond thine age."

"Eh? How old are you, then?" Dalindrar probed curiously. "You don't hardly look past your mid-twenties." The dwarf, on the other hand, held the appearance of great age. His baldness and white hair added to it, and his height suggested a hunched old man, even if his muscles shattered the illusion.

__

Superficial countenance be illusive, ephemeral one… "'Tis full unseemly to be asking a woman her years," she replied loftily, flicking a length of hair back behind her ears. "Suffice to be saying I hast seen well o'er five centuries."

"Give or take a decade or two, eh?" he joked, trying to cover his shock with levity. It failed to disguise it. The dwarf's eyes were wide, and she was fairly certain his mouth had dropped a moment before he found his voice. Yahla hid a smile. Mortals were easily impressed by statistics.

"Giveth a decade or twain, more like," she agreed in good humor, asking out of curiosity, "And thine age?"

Dalindrar scratched the back of his head, saying finally, "I'm fifty-two." His tone was rather disgruntled, and Yahla couldn't help but rib him over it.

"Why, thou art but a babe in arms," Yahla exclaimed happily, as if pleasantly surprised. Dalindrar scowled and ducked his head as she continued. "Marvelous! I be pleased to find mine son shalt have a playmate of so close an age!"

"Argh! Stop that, lassie!" He barked, muttering as she laughed delightedly. The ringing sound echoed through the small house, cut through by his, "You have a mighty questionable sense of humor, you know that?"

The dragoness stopped laughing, the silvery resonance trailing off into a silent smirk. "What be there to question of it? Mortals are pathetically amusing creatures."

"This better be one of those 'present company excluded' type of things," the smith said darkly.

She laughed again and did not reply, instead going back to eating her soup.

Dalindrar sighed, "Why in hell do I put up with you?" 

This time Yahla almost choked on her soup as she started laughing anew.


	13. Chapter 12 A Heart Seized With Darkness

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Thanks everyone who reviewed. I now have a total of four reviews, and while it's not the number I would wish, I am still thankful.

Casey- Yes, I know it's not the most original in the world, but I need to save all my really original thoughts for my own novels. ^_^ 

Justanormalgamer- Thank you. I try to represent the characters well, which is sometimes a challenge. I'm glad my effort is appreciated. AU stands for Alternate Universe.

Crimson Primrose- I'm really very flattered you think this is one of the best stories you've read. Warm fuzzies, and all that. *LOL*

Okay, now. Review, or no more will be upcoming. 

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Twelve

A Heart Seized with Shadows

Eleven days had passed since Yahla had vanished so abruptly, and Fou-Lu was at his wit's end. Though he knew rationally that it would take more than a week and a half to traverse even one continent in search of a single person, emotionally, he was a wreck. The last time Yahla had been pregnant, she had nearly died, so he knew all to well how vulnerable she would be. And Fou-Lu, intrepid immortal afraid of no threat to his person, was terrified of losing her again.

The situation was made worse by the fact that he had no one to confide in or lean on. He had sent Won-Qu out to join A-Tun on the hunt days earlier, and there was no way he would confide in the mortals under his command. He had known them for less than a month, and he was not so quick to trust individuals who had but recently been under Soniel's thumb.

But at times he needed to think, to drop the mask he held so rigidly at all other moments. Then, he would retire to his chambers, where only he dared tread, or to one of the miradors at the very peak of the castle, which were frequented by none except the occasional guardsman. Those he could deal with, and order elsewhere.

The emperor was there at the moment, ensconced on one of the most out of the way balconies, arms crossed as he gazed out at Chedo. He had the most scenic view in all of the city, the houses and merchant shops stretching out below him like lines of ants. Shades of every imaginable color lined the streets and roofs, a motley parade of humanity. It did not interest him; the god-emperor had seen it all before. Instead, his eye was drawn back, over walls and fields to where the horizon blended with the sky. Yahla was somewhere out there, no doubt helpless and alone. What would happen to her? _I wouldst do aught for her to returnest hither, but though I cry her presence, no sign there be of her. _Glancing about once to assure himself that no one was there, he slid down to sit against the wall of the parapet, burying his head in his hand. _I hadst forgotten how mishappy I be when she is not with me…now, 'tis drawn to memory all too expressly… _Lonely and separated from the only living being that understood him fully, he sighed.

The scuffle of a footfall broke the silence, and Fou-Lu stiffened, his hands dropping away from his face. He met the gaze of the mortal who dared disturb him, too startled to cover his weakness. For a moment, his grief and vulnerability stayed painted across his face, and his golden eyes were pained. They were as doors to his soul, worn with indecision and obligation.

The doors shut, the mask returned, and the walls the dragon-god had built around himself rose again, steely and impenetrable. Fou-Lu got gracefully to his feet, expression cool and inimical. A final glance at the scenery that was Chedo, and he turned to gaze emotionlessly at the intruder. "General Rhun."

The middle-aged man acknowledged his name, bowing his head as he walked to stand several feet from the dragon's side. The bands of silver that streaked his brown hair and beard and the wrinkles lining his face marked his advanced age. The emperor, though displeased, was glad it was the general rather than another human that had disturbed him. Other mortals groveled, which was annoying when it got too extreme, and would use their knowledge of his vulnerability for their own ends. The well-built general, who had managed to keep a full head of hair in spite his age, did not seem the backstabbing type. He would, most likely, keep that which he had seen to himself. Not that Fou-Lu trusted him. Fou-Lu never trusted anyone who hadn't earned it.

"Your Majesty," Rhun said gravely, his voice deep and mature with age. "What is wrong?"

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Fie! Saveth me from the fair intentions of well-meaning mortals… "Naught," he answered stiffly, not a flicker of emotion showing. He used the royal 'we deliberately, showing his disdain for meddling humans. "We dost not desire nor need thine aid. Pray thee depart."

The general stepped closer, looking questioning, and concerned. "I'm sorry, Your Imperial Majesty, but if there is a problem that relates to Empire, shouldn't you let us know about it?"

"We said, quit this place!" he growled, irritated. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts, not harassed by this impudent human. The mortal didn't budge, and Fou-Lu's eyes narrowed. The last time a mortal had so defied him had been centuries ago. Of course, that had been under unusual circumstances…

He suddenly laughed, startling Rhun. "Tell us, General, art thou mayhap related to the second Emperor? Mal-Heu?" the dragon inquired, a smile smoothing the anger from his features.

The human was surprised, but hid it well, though he could not help the inquisitive frown that spread across his face. "Indeed, Your Majesty. My many-times grandfather was his youngest son. These days the connection is distant enough that my family is not considered related to the late Soenil." It was understandable. Twelve generations was a long time in human terms. "But how did you know, Your Imperial Majesty?" he asked after a pause.

"Thou art the descendent of Mir-Su?" Fou-Lu exclaimed with some delight, pleased to find that Mal-Heu's line had lived beyond that despicable idiot Soenil. He should not have been surprised to find descendents in the army. After all, both Mal-Heu and his father before him had been officers in the military. "Or didth our old friend have another son after we didst gift him the throne?" 

"Mir-Su is my ancestor," Rhun confirmed, forgetting for a moment who he was speaking to. "But you must tell me how you knew."

Fou-Lu's smile faded, his face turning cold. _Wert thou not Mal-Heu's progeny… _"For the sake of thine ancestors, we shalt ignore that, but thou art to remember, General, that we needs _must_ do naught."

The general bowed his head, expression unreadable. "My apologies, Your Majesty."

The emperor acknowledged him with a slight but gracious nod. "As to thy question, mortal, thy forefather was a intimate friend of ours, and thy similarities be remarkable."

"Similarities, Your Majesty?" Rhun queried, raising a brow.

The god-emperor chuckled. "'Twas he that was the sole human who e'er dared hound us when we didst not wish to answer."

"I see. Well then, would perhaps answer my original question, for his sake, Emperor?" the general asked.

Fou-Lu sighed. _Humans know not when to cease. _"Very well. There be no new threat to the Empire. Our distress is a personal matter. Pray leave it be."

General Rhun blinked, then said cautiously, "I did not know that gods were affected by…personal matters."

"And what doth thou know of gods, General?" he replied sarcastically, turning his back on the human. The dragon stared gloomily out at his city, eyes hooded. "Thou art but mortal."

"Well, yes. That is so. But I have heard tales, most of which claim gods only concern themselves with higher affairs." The mortal walked over to lean on the parapet at the emperor's side, following the dragon's gaze out into the city. "Is that true?"

Fou-Lu was silent a long moment, then he smiled wryly. "Thou art attempting to induce us to imparten to thee what is amiss. It shall not work."

"I see my motives have been uncovered." The general smiled as well, and said no more, watching the city below. His wrinkled and liver-spotted hands rested on the edge of the wall as he leaned forward to follow the movement of the people on the ground.

Fou-Lu watched the horizon, long moments passing as both dragon and mortal stood in silence. _I had desired someone to confide mine worries in…and he is the scion of Mal-Heu._

"Mine wife be missing." The god-emperor's voice broke through the silence, though it was little more than a whisper. He barely noticed he had abandoned the royal 'we' and now spoke to Rhun as a near equal.

"Pardon?" Rhun turned towards him, questioning. The emperor remained staring out to where the earth met the sky.

"Mine wife be missing," he repeated, raising his voice slightly. "And I canst not find her, for I be needed here." The dragon ran a hand through his hair, adjusting the red band that secured it.

"You have a _wife_, Your Majesty?" The general looked surprised, and the emperor could swear his mouth had dropped a few inches. Of course, the mustache and beard made it harder to tell, and Fou-Lu once again was profoundly grateful dragons did not grow facial hair. 

"She is a dragon, as mineself," He replied, looking sad. Rhun noticed the dragon's hands were gripping the wall tightly enough that his knuckles had turned white. "In a battle with the late Soenil and his minions, a spell was cast that transported her from mine grasp. She, as a god, shouldth not have been affected by it, but she was pregnant, and thus vulnerable. I knew it not at the time, else I ne'er wouldest have taken her into battle at mine side." He closed his eyes, distressed by the memory.

"Your wife is _pregnant_?" Rhun repeated, even more shocked.

Fou-Lu opened aureate eyes and turned to glare at him, annoyed. "Dost thou intendest to repeten all mine speech?"

"I apologize, Your Majesty." The general said quickly.

Fou-Lu nodded distractedly, and said nothing. Finally, he looked back at Rhun. "An thou be telling any being of this, I shalt kill thee," the dragon said in an affable tone. He smiled disarmingly at the human, but his eyes were serious.

"I…see," the general said, uncertain how to interpret the god-emperor's sudden changes of mood."

"I be glad we understand each other." Fou-Lu smiled ferally at him a last time, before turning back to gaze moodily at the sky.

Taking it as a dismissal, General Rhun quickly left.

"You can't be meaning to go out like that, lassie," Dalindrar protested, sounding quite fed up by her refusal to see reason. He had been trying for several minutes now, and it didn't work. "You've a bun in the oven, so to speak, and you wouldn't likely stand a chance out there!" The dwarf was genuinely concerned; he had grown fond of the dragoness in the past few days, regarding her much like a wayward niece.

Somewhat prone to mood swings and irrational thoughts due to the influx hormones throughout her body, Yahla had decided to leave Dalindrar's protection and make for the Empire. He thought she was insane, and had told her so. She had recovered from her deprivation of water and food, but the female was far more vulnerable than she would admit, especially since she constantly overestimated her body's own capabilities and refused to back down when it betrayed her. She was a dragon, she was proud, and she wouldn't last a minute on her own.

The 'bun in the oven' reference threw her off for a moment, but the dragoness stayed fixed in her stance. "Mayhap 'twould be of greater prudence, but I wilt not have mine son birthed in a smithy, nor asunder mine husband's side!" Her voice was sharp and obviously angry at his attempts to prevent her departure. 

The dwarf stifled a groan, rubbing his forehead in response to the headache growing there. "Ho…look, lassie, don't be going off all halfcocked. You just climb down off your high horse and listen to me." He made eye contact the best he could, hindered by the distance of several feet. The dragoness didn't help much, at first refusing to look at him at all. At last, she turned golden eyes to meet his brown, sullen and smoldering. 

Once Dalindrar was certain he had Yahla's attention, he said gently, "Now, you're not strong enough to take on a human form, were you to leave. You're pregnant, and you're but a pint-sized creature for all that you've got cheek. You don't have any idea how to get back home, you're flush in the center of enemy territory, and you're going to attract a hell of a lot of looks just looking the way you do." The dwarf cut of her attempt to protest before it had even left her mouth. "You and me both know you'll go whether I like it or not, but won't you wait a couple of days, lassie? I've an idea, something to help you out on the way." The goddess looked skeptical, so he added, "Trust me." 

The sincerity in Dalindrar's rough voice apparently convinced her. She sighed, eyes downcast, and nodded.

"Good." The dwarf smiled, a openly ugly expression that still managed to convey his relief. Gesturing for her to follow him, he walked over to one of the crates she had noticed numerous times. Only one of four was opened, lid pried off with a handy crowbar. Dalindrar, grin still in place, lifted something reverently from the depths of the box. "Take a gander at this," he indicated as the silver chime of metal brushing metal rippled through the room.

Yahla held her breath appreciatively as he held it up for her to view. It was a full suit of scale-mail, inlaid in silver and tipped with gold. Dalindrar shook out the folds and brushed a hand lovingly over the metal surface. He looked up to see her reaction, but she, for once, had found herself speechless.

"It was made for a human, plain as day," the dwarf explained, holding the armor up to see how it would fit on her. It was slightly overlarge, but nothing that couldn't be fixed. "But if you give me a bit of time, I reckon I can shape it to fit you. Won't have to worry about wounds, then. And since you'll likely be gaining in weight, I'll make it so you can adjust the stomach and hip size."

Immensely moved by his offering, Yahla went down on her knee, eyes level with the dwarf's and impulsively gave him a hug. Dalindrar was as surprised as she was. In her life, she had only hugged Fou-Lu before, but she was a mother-to-be. She was allowed to be irrational.

"'Tis beautiful," she whispered, turning her arm to watch the ripple of metal. Dalindrar beamed with pride, and Yahla smiled. "Thou art a great master of thy trade."

The armor the dwarf had presented to her after several days of labor was marvelous. It fit like a second skin, leaving only her extremities uncovered. It hung slack around her waist, but he had also given her an item reminiscent of a metal girdle that kept the armor trim against her form. Right now she had it on the tightest setting, though the girdle could be adjusted as she increased in size. That would probably come in handy before she was through.

"Aw, it's nothing," Dalindrar said modestly. "If you gave me a couple weeks, I could make you a real suit of armor, but I'm thinking it'll have to do. Leastwise if you're so eager to get on out of here."

She smiled and nodded slightly, leaning down to hug the dwarf. He returned it fiercely, and she suspected he would miss her, too. _Twice in but a week…I be getting soft…_ Then she stood, shouldering the haversack he had given her. "Fare thee well, Dalindrar," Yahla said softly, aware that she would probably never see him again, "I be not forgetting thy kindness."

"Take care of yourself, lassie," the dwarf growled, trying to hold back his emotions. "I don't want to be hearing about your death anytime soon."

With a last glance at her benefactor, she left, heading down the passage that led to the outside of the mountain. She disappeared from the dwarf's sight in moments, and from his life. Dalindrar stared after her, absently twirling the tip of his beard between his fingers. "Good luck, lassie. I think you'll be needing it."


	14. Chapter 13 A Wrench In the Works

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Well, I've been on vacation for the past few days, but I had time to write this and typed it up as soon as I got home. Here you go. The chapter is named as shown because here's where everything goes even more twisted and AU. If you saw this coming, I praise you. ***LOL*** I wonder what my twisted mind will come up with next! ***Does the dance of cheese and crackers*** Come, do the dance of cheese and crackers with me! All you need is a cracker, a slice of cheese, and to review my story! ***Resumes dancing*** 

Indigo Ershin- *Evil Laughter* Another addict…my plan is working! Soon, I will conquer the world… ^_^

Fou-Lou- Personally, it's not AU if it follows the story line. And thanks. I'm glad to hear its not horrible, seeing as I've typed over 76 pages already. Hate to have to quit now…*lol* Through really, thanks. It's people like you that give me the confidence to post my writing.

Shardsofpower- Thanks! Here's the next chapter. ^_^ 

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Seven reviews! Keep 'em coming! Feel free to review more than once! ***Grin***

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Thirteen

A Wrench in the Works

Dalindrar had provided her with one last perhaps most important service, that of directions. Yahla, a lost inhabitant of the empire, had very little knowledge of the Alliance in the first place, and all that she did know was several centuries out of date. Without the dwarf's aid and the rough but invaluable map he had given her, she would no doubt have wandered until she met her death.

Yahla had two possible routes by which she could return to her husband's side. One, which led to the west, was by far the more populated, dotted with tiny villages and farmstead. Dominating the area were the kingdoms of Worrent and Ludia, the former which hated the Empire passionately and the latter which were manipulative bastards. To pass that way would be dangerous for a pregnant dragoness, though it was the shorter path.

Her other option was to head north, taking a road hidden in an ancient shrine up to the Alma Fen and beyond to Windia. Once there, she would turn to Shyde at the edge of the desert. This path, though longer, was safer from the eyes of mortals, and it was this one that she chose. 

The golden plains spreading north from Mount Glom was the sight that greeted her as the goddess left the mountain. The flat expanse of grass extended an indefinable distance in all directions, a harmonious mix of gold and green. On the edge of the horizon sat mountains, purple monuments rising over the plain like looming sentinels. The blue of the sky stretched cloudless of overhead, offering a good view of the sun position by which to gauge one's bearing. The day was new, still bright and fresh. Clad in her unusual armor, Yahla turned herself to face the sun and started in on her long trek home. 

Exiting the plain took her the better part of a day, after which she turned north, the direction she would maintain until reaching Windia. Beyond the plains, the ground was rockier, greener, and far more wooded. Healthy deciduous trees had spouted everywhere, though they were distanced enough from one another that the area could not be called a forest. It was the next best thing and Yahla found the surrounding life forces comforting, a soothing balm to her anxious feelings. All her godly powers (and a great deal of what she ate) were being directed to support the new life inside her, but the plants still recognized her and greeted her warmly.

It was another day before she reached the dilapidated shrine. She was traveling far more slowly than normal, but the armor weighed her down and more than half the time Yahla found herself weak and tired. Pregnancy was taking its toll.

The temple was a rounded building dedicated to forgotten (and most likely false) gods. It wasn't very impressive, as if it had been built by barbarians trying for an air of sophistication. The result was decidedly lacking, though it had been decorated fiercely, as if daring anyone to comment. 

There was a door at the front of the shrine and, inside, stairs leading down.

Dalindrar grunted as he beat out a sheet of metal, thinning it out into an even thickness. The steel was quickly losing its heat and hardening, and the dwarf reheated it before shifting it to the pointed end of the anvil and starting to pound. It shaped quickly into a bowl, then into a rounded helmet that would serve some soldier well.

As the smith put the finishing touches on it, he heard footsteps below and the sound of someone fiddling with the trap door that led to the basement and from there outside. For a moment the dwarf thought Yahla had returned ready to dwell with him till the child was born, her path home thwarted. But no. Yahla was gone, most likely forever, and the smith knew she would not turn back of her own volition.

The trap door eased open with an audible creek and there were sounds of multiple people ascending the ladder to the main floor. Dalindar finished the helmet quickly, putting it aside as he turned to inspect his visitors. "Hi ho! Back again, are you?" he asked, recognizing the five travelers who had been here once before to commission a fake king's sword.

The blue-haired boy that seemed the unofficial leader of the party smiled at him and proffered the sword he had been holding. The youth looked much like he had been the first time Dalindrar had seen him. He was wearing a white shirt with sweat stains and ripped off sleeves. Baggy pants of a nondescript color started high on his waist and terminated at the base of his ankles. A tasseled sword hung at his left hip, neatly sheathed in a scabbard of hardened leather.

Recognizing the sword that was held out to him, Dalindrar cocked an eyebrow. The sword was the one he had forged to mimic the king's sword. "What's this? Won't you still be needing that?"

One of the boy's companions shook her head. "No, its terrible, but we never got a chance to pass it off as the real sword, and we don't have any other use for it now. Maybe you could do something with it." Smiling, she leaned partway over, hands on her knees, to meet his eyes. She was windian, and quite lovely in a delicate, child-like way. White-feathered wings betrayed her nationality, and her hair was reminiscent of a wheat field before harvest.

Dalindrar took a moment to inspect the rest of the company. One, a worren, outmassed his companions easily, both in height and girth. He was striped and finely furred from the neck down. The male had spiky orange hair and fairly attractive features, if you liked them muscle-bound. 

Almost matching the worren in height was a grass-runner, a rather scrawny fellow with sagging jowls and a perpetually sleepy look. In spite of that, it was obvious he could move quickly when there was a need. He was brown and white of fur, though most of his was covered by the heavy robe he wore. 

The last noticed his scrutiny and met his eyes with its own electronic ones. They darkened to red, and Dalindrar looked away with some unease.

"And we were in the area to talk to the Grass Dragon, and we thought we'd stop by to thank you for helping us out before!" the windian girl continued with enthusiasm.

Dalindrar grunted something and put the blade aside, intending to melt it down for scrap. The original king's sword had been made a long time ago when he was younger and not as skilled. There had been mistakes and errors made in the making of it, and in order to imitated it perfectly, Dalindrar had put the same flaws into this one. As a result, it wasn't that great a blade, and certainly not one he wanted. "That all?" he asked. "Sure you don't have something you want me to make?"

"Yeah, actually there is," the worren said, outlining what they wanted. 

The dwarf nodded and went to work, the sound of his hammer ringing against metal echoing through the room. "I'll have this done in a jiffy!"

As he worked, his guests loitered around the house, picking at this and that. Dalindrar ignore their snooping for the most part, seeing as it wouldn't do any harm. The dwarf stopped, however, when he saw the little windian pick something up off the floor and exclaim over it. 

It was a hair, silky white and well over four feet long. "Oh! It's lovely!" the girl exclaimed happily, showing off her prize to her companions. "I wish I had such long hair." She twisted it between her fingers and it gleamed dully. "Where is it from?"

"Ah…" the dwarf stuttered, caught off guard. These people were of the Alliance, and the smith knew it would be wise to keep them in the dark in respects to Yahla. "A lady friend of mine…"

The worren laughed. "You have lady friends?"

Dalindrar blushed and finished the commission, pushing it into their hands. "There you are. Now, be off with you. I've work to finish!"

Outside, Nina still clutched the hair, running it through her fingers. "It's so soft, Ryu. I wonder if all lady dwarves have hair like this."

Cray laughed. "Enough with the hair already!"

Nina sniffed and played with it some more. Something about it fascinated her. She started when the strand was pulled from her grasp. Looking up, she found Ershin holding it to his face, circuitry eyes gone red. The rest of the group stopped and turned to see what was wrong. Nina exchanged a curious look with the others as they watched Ershin inspect the hair from different angles.

Eshin glowered at the hair he held, hissing at last in Deis' voice, "Dragon…"

The shrine had not been difficult to pass even in her current condition. No monsters had attacked her, though she was bitten by a rat. Said rat did not survive the hormonal surge of wrath generated by said pregnant female.

Once again, Yahla traveled north, and the terrain grew wetter and wetter as she approached the Alma Fen, a swampy area the dragoness would have to cross to return home.

"Your Majesty! General Rhun!"

Both turned at the call of their names as the messenger came towards them. The two were on the same overlook on which they had met, and had not expected to be interrupted. Rhun raised a brow at the man's breathless state, but Fou-Lu remained impassive, his elegant face composed. "Thy report?" he inquired softly as he stepped forward, making the human courier start. _'Tis ironic that e'en after hundreds of years mortals still conduct themselves in a manner of sameness,_ he thought with some amusement, remembering other messengers long ago, all of which were in mortal terror of him. The memory of one in particular brought a slight smile to play about his lips, which apparently scared the human in front of him a great deal more than his earlier aloof expression.

Swallowing, the mortal stammered, "Captain Ursula reports no progress, Milord." He shrank back as the dragon's expression darkened. The smile vanished instantly, and it was obvious the god-emperor's mood had shifted from superior playfulness to utterly lethal.

"No progress?" the emperor repeated mildly, eyes narrowed. "Doth she truly thinketh that venial? What be her excuse?"

"Milord…Majesty, she has scoured the empire and found not a trace…" The human was starting to sweat, a sheen of moisture beading across his brow. "She had started sending troops into the Alliance, but they have encountered resistance and found nothing." 

Fou-Lu nodded slowly, his face relaxing into the usual indifferent expression he wore in public. "…And how far hath she penetrated into our former enemies' land?"

"They…they're still searching the deserts, Milord, but they're working their way east." The mortal cringed as the silence stretched for several seconds.

"…Very well. Thou art to inform the good Captain that she is to continue thus." Dismissed, the messenger left and Fou-Lu turned to find Rhun watching him. "What?" he snapped, annoyed by the scrutiny.

Pausing, the mortal asked with the caution that had exemplified their relationship since their meeting, "What exactly have you sent my granddaughter to do, Your Majesty?"

"To find mine wife," the dragon growled. Out of respect for perished ancestors, he and Rhun had initiated a rather tentative friendship. They still had yet to get used to each other, Fou-Lu not quite trusting the human and Rhun simply not knowing what to make of the dragon-god. "For what purpose dost thou ask? Be there a problem?"

"Hardly. I merely like to know what my granddaughter is up to and the mention of her failing to achieve anything is worth notice." Smiling with fond pride, he continued, "Ursula is somewhat of an overachiever, as I'm sure you know."

"Verily, though some wouldeth say she doth but her observance and no overachievement." He smirked slightly, continuing, "She will do neither unless she forfilleth mine orders."

"And if she fails in this mission, Majesty?" Rhun asked as the silence held. 

The smile the dragon wore turned grim. "Then she mayeth as well ne'er return."

Alma Fen was hot and humid, filled with the heavy air that clings to exposed skin and garments. It was uncomfortable and damp, and difficult to pass through. Fortunately, some kind soul had built bridges to connect the rare patches of solid ground, which were few and far between. A whole network of walkways had been set up and though the planks were rickety and poorly maintained, they turned the hard task of traversing the swamp into a far easier one.

Only one section proved difficult, where the bridges gave out and she was forced to slosh through knee-high mud while hoping her armor while hoping her armor wouldn't rust.

Yahla's feet sunk deep into the wet ground and the mud worked its way into chinks in her armored legs. It squished between her clawed, bird-like toes and smelled of rot, decomposing substances and wet earth. The dragoness was forced to tie her hair into a knot at the back of her neck to prevent it from getting in the filth. Some how, it still managed to get grubby. Even the parts of her than had not touched the muck felt dirty, the heavy air sticking to her skin like a thick layer of honey.

The way onto solid ground presented itself after long minutes of trudging. A ways after that she exited the swamp completely and set about scrubbing the mud off of her legs and unknotting her hair. It was a task easier said than done, for the long tresses had worked themselves into tangles she had no way of undoing without a comb. Eventually the goddess yielded to the inevitable and left it alone.

The journey through Alma Fen had taken most of the day, the rest of which she spent resting and hunting up a meal. It had been eighteen days since she and Fou-Lu parted ways, and she spent the night dreaming of him and happier times. In particular, she dreamt of their meeting and the events that followed it. And in her sleep, she smiled.

_She woke to pain, a searing agony that started inside and ripped its way out, leaving bundles of raw nerves in its wake. The anguish of being torn from her own world was dwarfed by the sheer torment that now racked her shattered body. It overwhelmed all her other senses, and she could barely feel the wet slickness of blood against her skin or smell its metallic scent in the air. Her eyes did not register that her eyelids were closed, for they saw nothing in any matter, and her ears heard only the thunder of her own heartbeat as it grew steadily weaker. _

Pain…what had happened? She had been dazed, confused. Who had attacked her? Hurt…everything hurt. Pain.

…Some one was there. Arms sliding under her body, starting to lift her from the ground. Her dazed mind rambled, lost and confused and all lucidity gone. Yes, away. Takest me away. The stone is cold. Cold. No, 'tis hot. Like fire, burnth…Art thou cold? her mind directed its rambling to the arms that enveloped it. No, thou burnst…thou burnst me…stop… Hurts…pain. Stop it. Her raw throat managed a strangled moan as the figure carrying her pressed unintentionally against one of her wounds. The being carrying her stopped immediately, and for a moment she believed he would drop her and she would shatter on the floor into a thousand pieces. She found her eyes open and a face before them. It was narrow and pale, framed with white hair. Golden eyes…those art mine eyes…Why doth thou bear mine face? Dazed and weak from blood-loss, she collapsed. 

Pain. There was pain like before, but there were differences. The pain was an ache, rather than the stabbing of white-hot knives of agony. And her other senses had returned, no longer drowned out by suffering. 

She opened her eyes cautiously and found herself laying on a large bed, wrapped in bandages and bloodstained sheets. As found her bearings, she noticed there was the imprint of a head on the pillow on the other side of the bed, and that the sheets on that side had been disarranged as if by a sleeping body. She had started to examine the rest of the room, most in an attempt to bring back the memories that suddenly escaped her grasp, when there was the sound of a door being opened. Turning her head to look, she saw the male that in her befuddled rambling she had mistaken for herself. Now, upon closer inspection, there were obvious differences, but apart from hair length and gender their looks were remarkably similar.

He approached the bed, the movement of his body holding her gaze. She blinked and looked away he greeted her and sat down on the edge of the bed. 

"Our name is Fou-Lu," he said, smiling at her. She found herself intraced, once again lost in the depth of his eyes. "Mayest we ask thine?"

She opened her mouth to reply but found her voice dry and cracked, and she produced not a sound. 

The other frowned, "Dost thou not understand us?"

With a great deal of effort, she managed to say, "Yes…" Her voice sounded as bad as she felt.

The male seemed to realize she wasn't up to speaking at the present, and apologied and asked her name. Yahla was uninclined to attemp speech again, but when he smiled at her, she felt as though she melted. It took most of her energy to rasp, "Yahla," before she passed out again.

The following morning she woke stiff, tired, and nauseated, and promptly threw up in a nearby bush. Yahla managed to get herself back on the road by mid-morning and headed north to Windia. 

The journey took three days, thanks to morning sickness and other ill of pregnancy. It was getting colder as she headed north, and for once her goddess-abilities didn't protect her. Cold and aching joints encouraged her to sleep in each morning and to make camp as soon as the sun fell below the horizon.

At last, she stumbled into Windia, tired and filthy. In spite of the dirt and her ragged appearance, she was still more than noticeable and an impressive sight, if travel worn. Yet, as she entered the city with wary senses, no one commented. No one even cared or noticed. Some one else had also arrived at the city.

The normally wide-open spaces of the windian city were filled with crowds of people. Curious as to the nature of the disturbance, Yahla pushed her way through them, her eyes narrowing as she caught sight of the source.

Several seconds later a dragoness landed lightly on the roof of one of the windian houses, from where it was easy to see over the crowds.

A dozen guardsmen were leading a worn figure up to the palace, or trying to. The crowds of joyful citizens were hindering their efforts quite effectively. The figure they led was a girl, windian and slight of stature. She was even raggedier than Yahla, dressed in a borrowed cloak, a ragged peasant skirt several sizes too big, and a red silk shirt. A very recognizable shirt, especially since its mate had been tied to secure the over-large skirt about the girl's waist. It was blazoned with an incriminating white symbol, one Yahla knew well. 

Several more guards appeared and dispersed the crowd with cajolery and threats. They then greeted the woman they were escorting with bows and exclamations over her state. As they shepherded their charge under Yahla's rooftop perch, the dragoness dropped down from it to land in front of the woman, momentarily forgetting her vulnerability.

The girl shrieked in surprise and the soldiers quickly trained their spears on the intruder. Yahla ignored them, her arms crossing over her armored breasts as she drew herself up to full height. Topping the windian by but a few inches, she hissed, "Why art thou wearing mine husband's shirt?"

The little windian's eyes widened and her mouth opened into an 'O'. "Your husband?" she asked as Yahla fixed her with a dark look. Glancing about wide-eyed, the girl ordered the soldiers to stand down and said to Yahla, "I…really think you better come with me, please." The guards, still not trusting her, stood threateningly behind woman, as if to say her request would be enforced as though it was an order.

Yahla opened her mouth to decline and demand an answer, but shut it as she remembered she was surrounded by soldiers and presently weakened. She hardly wanted to walk into a castle full of the enemy, but it might well be more dangerous to refuse. "Very well," she said shortly, eyeing the spear-carrying humans around her. "But thou needs must answer mine query."

The girl nodded, her golden hair bobbing up and down. "Yes, of course."

Yahla wondered briefly whether she would survive the events to come. 

They took the elevator up to the castle, the guards forming a circle around them. At the tope, the group was treated to the sight of the Windian Castle, an airy structure of gray and white stone. A great fondness for overlooks, parapets, and balconies was evident, for they were everywhere. Whoever maintained the building kept it neat and tidy enough that it seemed to shine, and no more than a loose feather was out of place.

As they approached the main entrance of the royal residence Yahla would have hung back but the looks the sentinels sent her prompted her to continue. Sure, she could take them, but others would join in if it came to a fight and Yahla wouldn't presently trust her flying skills to escape.

Upon being admitted inside, maids and servants came to fuss over the Windian girl, whom Yahla gathered was the missing windian princess, Elina. One of the servants informed said princess that she would wish to see the king immediately, even before she changed and cleaned up. The monarch had apparently locked himself in his bedroom yesterday and not come out since, troubled by the disappearance of one daughter and the wandering of the other. 

The princess and Yahla (who found herself dragged along in spite of her protests) were at the king's rooms only minutes after hearing of the ruler's state. Elina knocked on the door several times before calling through it. "Father?"

There was a long pause and the door was thrown open. The windian king caught his daughter in a fierce embrace, profound relief written across his face. The smaller female returned the hug and promptly burst into tears, startling both the king and the dragoness. Elina's father guided his daughter into the room, frowned when he noticed Yahla, and finally beckoned her in as well. 

The windian girl took some time to calm down, clinging to her father's shoulder like a limpet. He soothed her with soft words, wiping her away and giving her plenty of hugs. At last she stopped crying and blew her nose on the offered tissue. "I'm so sorry, I just…"

"Everything's fine now, Daughter," the king assured her. "Now. Why don't you tell me where you've been and what's happened. And who this woman is," he added, looking at Yahla.

Affronted, Yahla protested, "I be not a woman!" before she remembered it would be unwise to say so.

The king looked at her oddly, and she found herself bristling under his scrutiny. "I'm afraid I've never seen a man with such a…chest." Her discomfiture was increased when he gestured to the offending extremities.

For a moment Yahla considered lying, but she had too much pride to claim to be a transvestite, so she simply glared.

Elina interrupted, still dabbing at her eyes with the hankie. "She doesn't mean she's a boy, Father. She means she isn't human." 

The king turned to stare at his daughter before returning his gaze to Yahla. A long pause ensued. "What are you?" he asked at last, his voice demanding. He glanced at Elina another time, as if wondering what exactly she had brought to his castle.

Yahla looked down her nose at him. "I be not seeing how 'tis any matter of thine."

The king opened his mouth to reply, obviously irked by her impertinence, but Elina interrupted again. "Father, I need to talk to you right now. Please, let her along." Once she had her father's attention, she continued, "Emperor Soenil is dead."

"What?!" the king exclaimed, astonished. Yahla felt a small rush of pleasure at the news. It was Soenil's fault she was lost here, and the thirteenth emperor was also an oathbreaker. In her opinion, he did not deserve to live.

"The thirteenth emperor is dead, along with many of his officials," the girl repeated, elaborating more this time, "And the First Emperor had reclaimed the throne."

This time the look he gave her was definitely one that questioned her sanity. "Elina, the First Emperor ruled hundreds of years ago."

"I know, Father, it sound mad. But he's back," she said, sounding somewhat defensive, "And he saved my life. One of the thirteenth emperor's scientist kidnapped me and turned me into a monster." She shuddered, and looked ready to cry again. "Emperor Fou-Lu turned me back to human after both Soenil and the Kitsune scientist died. He didn't answer when I asked if he had killed them, but I think he did."

The eyes of both king and princess turned as Yahla interrupted. "He didth, if the kitsune thou speakest of be the one I believest it. That one will have died a painful death, and Soenil himself wouldeth have been so disposed of as well."_ 'Tis not a question…what I wouldst know is for what reason he didth save the girl…_

"How do you know?" the king asked suspiciously.

Yahla smiled and shrugged. "I be knowing mine husband."

The look on the king's face was well worth the danger she had just plunged herself into.


	15. Chapter 14 One Good Deed Merits Another

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Another chapter! Wow, I'm really pumping these things out, aren't I? Must have something to do with the fact that someone duct-taped me to the keyboard when I wasn't looking. Those sneaky…

Okay, this one's shorter than some, but I don't care! Hah! Anyway, review or else. Or else what, you say? Sporkings. Random sporkings. *Evil Laughter*

Those of you who say "But I already reviewed, Tierl!" Do it again! ^__-

Lady Nightwind- Since I know you in real life I take the opportunity to say that your brain runs off quite frequently. ^_^ And you KNOW what the dance of cheese and crackers is. I told you, remember? Took you long enough to review my story…since you're the first person who READS IT! :P

Windigo the Feral NYAR- Of course it's not cheating! Here's more, keep the henners away from me! Back, damn you! Back! *Fends off henners with spork* 

Crimson Primrose- Well, dear Ryu and friends shall have a future role…quite a large one. ^_^ If only to mess things up even more. Bwahahaha…and Yahla will get home…eventually. ^_^

Review more, people!

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Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Fourteen

One Kind Deed Merits Another

"Your husband?!" The demand was explosive, bursting from the king's throat as he stared at her in disbelief. For a moment he remained speechless, searching for words. "Elena, what have you brought into our castle?" He started to call for the guards, but Elena grabbed his arm, hanging on to him the best she could.

"Father, the First Emperor saved my life! You would repay him like this?" she looked pleading, her childlike face sincerely upset. "Please, Father!"

The king opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. "You're right." He turned to look at Yahla, his expression sheepish. "My apologies. You must understand my people have been at war with yours for hundreds of years. I reacted without thinking."

Yahla nodded, smiling slightly in amusement. _I be not wise to the reason mine beloved saved thy princess, but as of the moment I be glad he didth_. "'Tis understandable. I be no more trusting of thy people." 

"Well. It looks as though we owe your husband a debt." He sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. There was another uncomfortable silence, before he said, "May we ask your name?" 

"'Tis Yahla," she replied guardedly, watching the mortal through slitted eyes.

Looking her up and down, the king smiled wearily. "It suits you, I think. I'm afraid I've a great deal to talk over with my daughter, and any discussion over what aid we can offer you to repay our debt to your husband must wait for tomorrow. In the mean time, will you accept one of our guestrooms and a meal? And a bath." He wrinkled his nose. "You look like you could use one, if you pardon my frankness."

After a long pause Yahla accepted, the idea of a bath being too tempting to give up. "Very well."

After the dragoness was shown to her temporary quarters, the king enfolded his daughter in another hug. "I've missed you so, Elena."

"I've missed you, too, Father." She returned the hug, resting her head on her father's shoulder. "So much has happened, I don't really feel like myself anymore."

"You may have changed, Daughter, but you're still my Elena, my little princess," he told her, lifting her chin to look into her blue eyes. "You'll always be my little girl."

Smiling a bit tearily, the windian whispered, "I love you, Daddy." 

"I dost not need aid in lavening! Goest from this place!" The dragoness' voice was sharp with wrath and her narrowed eyes prompted the mortal to back down. Naturally, the human failed to notice the warning signs.

"But Milady," the maid protested, clasping her delicate hands together in a gesture of sincerity. Her big blue eyes gazed winsomely up at Yahla, an expression intended to be endearing that simply got on one's nerves. "The king told me to help you with what every you needed! Now, let me help you out of that, please." She moved to undo the fastenings of Yahla's armor, but jumped back as the dragoness fended her off with a handful of sharp claws. 

"Fie! Pray thee cease, er I halt thee!" Unlike many mortals, Yahla did not protest in some attempt to maintain modesty, as she hardly cared if a mortal saw her naked, but because she was more than capable of taking care of herself. She was also presently in the mood to be left alone, preferably as much as possible. And besides, only her husband was allowed to wash her back. 

"But…" The maid didn't seem to know what to do, as if Yahla's refusal had turned her entire world upside down. She asked plaintively, her eyes starting to look teary, "Don't you want a bath, Milady?" The little maidservant added brightly, "Cleanliness is next to godliness, my mother always said."

At this the dragoness exploded and chased the poor servant from the room, shrieking, "I be already a goddess! Out! OUT!" She then promptly slammed and locked the door in the bewildered and frightened human's face. 

Breathing heavily, she turned her back to the door and leaned against it, anger still flooding her veins. _The effrontery of this mortal…_

Her eye fell across the steaming tub that had been prepared for her bath, and her mood swing left as quickly as it had come, banished by the idea of being clean after days of filth. She unfastened her armor and slipped out of it, wondering if there was someone in the castle with the proper equipment to clean the stuff. Figuring that would have to wait for later, Yahla spread it out on the floor before lowering her self into the basin of hot water. It was almost too hot to be comfortable, but Yahla basked in it anyway, feeling sore muscles uncramp and relax. The dragoness sunk up to her chin in it, the steam of the water warming her face and smelling faintly perfumed. She was content just to soak for several minutes, before starting to wash off. To her delight, they had both soap and shampoo ready for her, a luxury she had done without for several hundred years. In fact, the last time she had bathed with soap had been on the evening before she had nearly sacrificed herself to save her husband. 

Yahla worked up a thick lather between her hands and massaged it into the skin of her face and shoulders, rising from the water to get at the rest of her body. She soaped and rinsed several times before her skin felt sufficiently clean, the evidence of her days of travel removed. Dirt, oil, and dry skin sloughed off, leaving her skin with a healthy shine. 

Her hair proved more difficult to get clean, tangled and thick as it was. She ended up using most of the shampoo provided, though it would normally have been enough for five people to wash their hair with. At last the tangles were worked out along with the filth and Yahla rose from her bath. 

Water ran down her shoulders and back and little puddles formed as she stepped, dripping, out of the tub. Her hair hung wet and clinging to her back, and Yahla reached for a towel, intending to dry out the long coil before it tangled again. Dismayingly, the towel ended up sopping wet before her hair ended up dry. Several more towels a later, the dragoness had her hair dried to satisfaction and started rubbing the water off her skin.

In a short amount of time, Yahla was dry and smelling mildly of soap. She sat down on the bed they had provided her, comfortable in her nudity. After a moment of contemplation and enjoying the sensation of being clean, she stood and went over to her armor. Holding it up to examine it, she grimaced. It desperately needed to be cleansed, and the dragoness let it drop back to the floor. She wasn't inclined to wear something to dirty after all the effort she had taken to return to her immaculate condition. The dragoness went back to sit on the bed, one slender leg folded under her as the other hung off the side of the mattress.

Glancing about, the dragoness found to her amusement that her hosts had failed to supply any extra clothes. _I wouldst wonder at their reaction wert I to be going to their supper arrayed as I be…_ The image brought a grin to her face, and her eyes narrowed mischievously. 

There was a knock at the door, and Yahla turned to look at it with a raised brow. Rising gracefully from her sitting position, she walked over to the door, "Yes?"

It was the maid, who had apparently become terrified of her at some point in time. The girl's tremulous voice was barely audible through the wood and it shook as though she expected to be attacked at any second. "Mi-Milady? If-if I can't help you bathe…can I…can I at least give you some clothes?"

Grinning and trying without much success not to laugh, Yahla opened the door to let the maid in. The girl entered with a pile of clothes weighing her down, stacked so high in her arms that the dragoness doubted she could see over them. The human put the mountain of dresses down on the bed, before turning to see the dragoness. The servant's eyes widened hugely, and she put a hand up to cover her mouth.

Yahla crossed her arms over her naked breasts and raised an eyebrow in question. "I wouldst be thinking that were thou assigned to assisteth guests in bathing thou wouldeth ne'er be offended by exposure of the body."

The maid blushed an interesting shade of red, replying, "It wasn't that, Milady. I just…those are terrible scars, Milady."

Yahla glanced down at the scar tissue that covered much of her chest and stomach. "'Tis so," she agreed, figuring there wasn't much else one could say about them.

The human walked a bit closer, totally unabashed by the dragoness' nudity. That, of course, was to be expected in her line of work, and it was a pleasant change from mortals who attempted to camouflage themselves as tomatoes at the sight of bare skin. Yahla, feeling a bit more tolerant after her bath, allowed the mortal to inspect the scars to her satisfaction. The little female's eyes opened even wider as she took in the extent of the damage, and she exclaimed in morbid fascination, "That's horrible! How did you get them all?"

"Sundry ways, little mortal," Yahla said, amused and a little saddened by the curiosity. "Dost thou truly wish to know?"

The maid stared another time at the flaws in Yahla's other wise unblemished skin, and shuddered. "No, I don't think I do, I guess. Let me help you dress, Milady."

She frowned. "I canst array mineself," the dragoness argued, though she wasn't looking forward to it. Yahla had never worn clothes in her hybrid dragon form, and had no idea how to get a dress on over her wings. Usually, whenever she went some place she would need to wear anything, she went in the shape of a human. In this case, her pregnancy made it so she didn't have the energy to change shape.

"Not with some of these dresses, Milady," the mortal contradicted her, starting to sort out several of the outfits, all of which looked to have been made for windians. "The fastenings for them are all in the back, and you have to have another set of hands to get in and out of them, Milady. Now, which do you like the best?" The windian held up several of the dresses, all of them approximately Yahla's size. 

It took some time to find a dress that fit Yahla, and even longer to find one she was willing to wear. At last they settled on a strapless green gown that was decorated with gold lining and embroidery. It was made for a windian but would work well for anyone with wings, hybrid dragons included. 

After the human finished fastening and adjusting the gown, she led Yahla over to a full-length mirror set in the wall. Yahla inspected her reflection with interest, noticing she was starting to show slightly.

The dress was form fitting and low-cut, showing off a great deal of cleavage and pale green skin. It sat snug against her body until below her waist, where it spread out into an elegant skirt. A narrow slit ran up to her thigh on one side, and on the other elaborate creases and folds formed a waterfall pattern that started over her right hip. Patterns had been sewn in golden thread on the torso and skirt of the dress, closely matching Yahla's eyes.

"May I do your hair, Milady?" the maid asked, bringing Yahla out of her examination of her reflection. Without waiting for an answer, the human started to brush it out, commenting on the length and softness. She pouted when Yahla forbade her to do anything but brush it, but quickly go over the disappointment and was chattering about things again while she pulled the dragoness' hair. Ready for the evening meal and out of patience, Yahla ended up chasing the maid out of the room again.

"Father, I realized when I thought I'd never see home again that I can't do it," Elena said, sitting next to her father in his room. She had changed some time ago into a white and pink dress, and since then father and daughter had been talking for hours. 

"Daughter, you were willing before," her father asked, frowning slightly. He had expected some changes from his eldest daughter after her ordeal, but this had not been one of them. "Why now?"

The windian princess averted her gaze, staring at the floor. It was obvious she felt she was somehow disappointing her father or failing in her duty. "I…When I agreed to marry the prince of Ludia…" Her voice trailed off, and she tried again, still hesitant. "I was willing to have an arranged marriage, without love…but I can't marry someone I don't love…when I already love another."

The silence was long and uncomfortable, before the king finally broke it. "It's Cray, isn't it. The chief of the worrens." He didn't make it a question, for he was certain he already knew the answer.

Elena nodded miserably, her gaze still lowered. "I…didn't mean to fall in love with him, Father. Things just happened, and I…"

The king interrupted her, laying a hand on her arm. "Elena." She raised her gaze to his, and he continued softly, "It's okay, Daughter. I was going to break the betrothal anyway, so you and Cray can marry without worry." 

She straightened up at this, looking surprised. "But, Father…why?" The look on her face warred between joy and confusion, though joy was winning.

The king smiled grimly. "Ludia and Windia haven't been getting on well these day. Cray went into the Empire to search for you after you disappeared, and Ludia attempted to bring him up on charges for it when he was caught. When Cray escaped he fled to Windia, and we sheltered him from the Ludians. I'm afraid our relationship has been getting worse and worse."

Elena caught her father in a hug, startling him and almost knocking him out of his seat. "That's the most wonderful thing I've ever heard!" she exclaimed joyfully, before skipping out of the room, singing happily at the top of her lungs. She had a beautiful voice, and since she forgot to close the door he could hear it as she wove her way throughout the hallways of the castle.

Shaking his head, the king watched her go. He was unable to keep the smile off his face. After a while he got up and shut the door, before moving to change for supper. 


	16. Chapter 15 An Unexpected Meeting

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Really short chapter here, but I care not! It's a chapter, be satisfied! I'm cutting off here because I feel like it, expect the next chapter up soon! For this chapter I did quite a bit of research. I've based the food of Windia off medieval Europe, and the empire off of Ancient China. My reasoning is complicated, but I won't go into detail… 

12 reviews! Keep 'em coming!

ChibiChaos- Thanks! I also love Fou-Lu, which is why I'm writing this story! ^_^ I also don't get why few people review, seeing as those who do positively love my work. Guess not everyone is interested in BOFIV. *Joins ChibiChaos in whacking all the non-reviewers*

Aaron D- Thank you, though I wouldn't really say I'm 'grown-up' seeing as I'm only 15… ^_^ As to the spelling of the princess's name…Well, it originally started out as a typo ^_^; After a while, I realized I liked it better than the original… That's all. And yes it is supposed to rhyme with Nina, but… hey! Who cares! *Laughs at self*

me- LOL! Well, I don't find either sexual orientation gross, but that…that just cracks me up. Sorry! *Grins* It's just one of my friends is homophobic, and her reaction would have been the same as yours if I made it a slash fic! ^_^ Thanks for saying my story's good! You don't have to read it if really nauseates you…Then again, I need the reviews. Face your fear, me!

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

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Chapter Fifteen

An Unexpected Meeting…

Yahla fully expected a servant to come inform her when the evening meal had been prepared, and was surprised when another individual came instead. At least it wasn't the maid…

"Are you ready?" Elena asked brightly, dolled up in a pink and white dress colorful enough to give Yahla a headache. The fact that she seemed unable to hold still didn't help. The little windian practically bounced from foot to foot, and Yahla swore vengeance on whoever had gotten her in such a perky mood.

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Too many hues of sanguine colors…'tis cloying, to say the least. Yahla averted her eyes from the blinding collage of pink as the windian chattered, her voice verging on singsong. _And in truth, cloying likewise describeth her most aright…_

"Oh! You look wonderful! That dress goes so well with your skin! Come, let's head to the dining room, dinner will start in a few minutes!" the princess exclaimed as she pushed her way into the room and got a look at the dragoness.

The dragon-goddess frowned at that, a language barrier suddenly erecting itself. "What be thy meaning? Dinner is taken at the break of morn." Several hundred years ago, dinner had originally been breakfast, while supper had been the evening meal. In Yahla's case, she considered the three meals of the day dinner, luncheon, and supper. Elena thought them breakfast, lunch, and dinner, thus presenting a problem.

"What do you mean? You have breakfast in the morning, dinner at night!" Elena looked confused, blurting out, "Where in the world are you from, to think otherwise?"

Yahla glared at her and replied acidicly, "Several hundred years hence, human. Whence didst thou thinkest I hadst mine origin?" 

The little windian's eyes widened and she stared at Yahla, averting her gaze when the dragoness raised a rather derisive eyebrow. "Well…whatever you want to call it, let's go eat, okay?" Elena at last timidly ventured, seeming to have lost some of her high spirits.

Unable to restrain a smirk, Yahla swept past the princess and out the door, followed closely by the pink-clad mortal.

The feast was to celebrate the return of the missing princess of Windia, and as such it was filled with relieved subjects and more food than Yahla had seen in one place since leaving the Empire. Elena was greeted with cheers and fanfare, while the dragoness was mostly ignored, much to her relief. She wasn't eager to have her name and presence gossiped across the Alliance, especially as she didn't yet know her husband's intention towards their rivals. Though her seat was near the head of the table with the king and princess, most of the eyes on her were from individuals whose reason for interest was obvious. They were younger males, blond and blue eyed like all windians, their young faces mostly devoid of guile. Many of said males blushed and looked away when she turned golden eyes their direction, much to the goddess's amusement. 

No one bothered her as she sat and put away large portions of food, fulfilling the eating requirements for two. All the other diners were busy talking to Elena or about her, and Yahla was content to be left alone. 

She filled her plate with another helping of roast bird, her second of that particular dish. She could not help but notice the substantial differences between the food of her homeland and that of Windia. They seemed to emphasize salt and spice here, rather than using a mix of the five flavors that the people of the empire employed. Bitter, salt, sour, hot and sweet, all used in order to maintain a variety. The Windian table was set with salty and spicy foods only, accompanied by bland dishes to make the salt palatable. Most of the more saline meats had been preserved with salt, even though they would have been soaked in water before serving. The fresh cuts of meat and the dried fish available were fairly bland, but diners smothered them in spicy sauces and ate them with piquant pies and fritters. The empire rarely made bread of any sort, but here baked goods were everywhere, in quantities much greater than Yahla had ever seen on a table. Not only that, milk produces were used in every way imaginable, cheese and puddings and rich sauces. In yet another difference, there was beef at the table! In the Fou Empire, the main meats were pork and seafood, and beef was only available in small amounts to the very rich.

There was no rice, and at first it threw her off. Rice was a staple for her people, and was used for everything, from flour to rice wine. Here there was none, and the drink provided was ale, which she did not have a taste for. 

Easing a piece of meat into her mouth on the tip of her table knife, Yahla chewed and swallowed, the tender flesh yielding easily under her teeth. She finished off the rest and reached a clawed hand out to get another slice. As she positioned her knife to cut off a portion, someone cleared his throat and took the chicken from her. Startled and vexed, the dragoness looked up to see a young man deftly slicing off portions. His eyes were a pale cerulean against tanned skin, and his hair was platinum blond. He had the typically delicate features of a windian, and unusually broad wings. 

"Allow me, my lady," the youth said chivalrously before placing several pieces on her plate. Finishing the task, he withdrew to his side of the table, still smiling at her.

Incredulous, Yahla raised an slim eyebrow and gave the young man a sharp look, which failed to daunt him. Was he _flirting_ with her?

The boy grinned at her before returning to his food, and she had the distinct feeling that yes, he was flirting. As they both ate they watched each other, Yahla calculating and somewhat disbelieving as the youth eyed her appreciatively. She found it rather annoying after she got over the initial shock. No one had dared flirt with her for hundreds of years. Well, that foul mortal Yom had, but he didn't really count for anything.

At last the goddess leaned across the table towards the youth and demanded abruptly, "Art thou dallying with me?" If he was, she intended to put a stop to it. Only her husband was allowed to flirt with her, and this child certainly wasn't him!

The young man demurred, saying unconvincingly, "I'd never flirt with such a lovely lady," His grin widened. "But if you were interested…" His voice trailed off, a clear innuendo. Whatever this mortal was, he certainly wasn't subtle.

The human's behavior starting to amuse her, Yahla found the corners of her mouth turning up into a slight smile. The idea of her ever getting involved with one like him was more than ludicrous. "The verity that I be uninterested notwithstanding, the dissimilitude of years is laughable."

"I've always liked older women." The incurable young windian seemed not to take a hint, continuing in his pursuit.

_Older women indeed…_

"Thereto, I be wedded," she added sweetly, unable to keep from smirking as the boy's face fell. There were some things out of reach of even the prettiest mortals, and she was one of them.

The youth sunk back in his seat, looking discouraged. The dragoness was fairly certain she heard him mutter under his breath, "Always taken or gay, always taken or gay…"

Supper went smoothly after that.


	17. Chapter 16 And Unexpected Aid

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Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Sixteen

…And Unexpected Aid…

The feast had continued until late in the evening, and Yahla was tired and cranky by the time it was over. No one else had approached her, so she had been given time to think about her situation. It hadn't helped her mood. 

Soon, she would have to depart Windia and turn towards Shyde, which was but a short distance away. From there she would need to take passage on a sandflier to cross the desert that stretched west and was mostly impassible. It would be an unpleasant crossing, full of burning days and freezing nights. On the other side of the desert, there would be a transport to the Empire, one Fou-Lu had apparently created while she had been in a coma. According to Dalindrar, that was the quickest way from the Alliance to the Empire. 

At the present, fatigued and slightly disoriented, Yahla was attempting to find her way back to her room. Her attempts were without much success, and she wandered rather pointlessly around for a brief while. The Windian Castle was too large for its own good, made to accommodate scores of guests and the servants needed to support them. Yahla had lived in the much larger palace her husband had built, but she had been in possession her powers at the time and could use them to scry out the proper direction when she got lost. In the absence, she would have been willing to settle for a guide, map, and compass.

The dragoness leaned again the nearest wall, tired of wandering through seemingly endless corridors. She let her eyes drift closed, fighting the temptation to fall asleep on the spot. She was feeling rather strange, and felt the sooner she reached her own quarters, the better.

"Hey, there!" a cheerful voice called, startling her out of her trance.

Turning quickly to face the newcomer, she brandished her claws in his direction, in case he presented any danger. Even in an evening gown, she looked threatening, and more than capable of carrying out those threats.

"Hey!" the voice exclaimed in alarm, a scuffle of footsteps sounding as the intruder quickly backed up. As he did so, he fell into one of the circles of torchlight that dotted the hallway. The warm glow of the torches revealed him to be the young man who had flirted with her over dinner. "Wait! I'm just trying to help! You look kind of lost."

Yahla relaxed slightly, though she remained wary. As her body lost much of her rigidness, she snapped, "I be that, but I needst none of thine help." 

"You mean you intend to wander the castle all night just because you can't remember where your room is and are too proud to ask for directions?" He grinned impishly at her, showing even white teeth. "Gee, I thought only men did that."

Too tired to think of any stinging remark to give the impudent mortal, the goddess simply glared and swayed on her weary feet. _Mayhaps I imbibed a bit of an abundance to drink…_ she thought after a moment of nausea. Usually, her powers kept her from getting drunk or affected by many harmful things. Now, though… _'Twill be the first I hast e'er been vinolent…_ It was fortunate Yahla turned out to be one of those lucky people who get sleepy and hiccup when inebriated. After all, if she had been one of the types that grew violent and angry, she could have done some serious damage to her hosts.

She managed to suppress the first fit of hiccups, but it was clear from the startled look the windian gave her that he had heard. 

"Are you all right?" the youth asked in worry, seeming to have forgotten pretenses of flirtation. He stepped cautiously up to her side, looking relieved when she made no move to exenterate him. The dragoness, mind fuddled, blinked sleepily up at the taller mortal. "Hey. You okay?" 

He had to catch her as she swooned.

Darnik, a young and handsome specimen of a windian male, stared at the female he cradled in his arms. Her golden eyes were closed, her brow furrowed, and there was a blush of intoxication over her pale-green features. She was beautiful, but taken, and Darnik wasn't one to steal another man's wife. He was too aware of his own mortality to face death by a jealous husband.

He couldn't just leave her in the hallway, that was for certain, and if anyone saw him carrying her around it would either make or break his reputation. Either way, it would ruin hers, for he knew what everyone would assume they had been doing. After all, why _else_ would a young man be carrying a tipsy female around the castle? "Oh, shit," he breathed with feeling.

The youth took several of the less traveled routes to her room, intending to drop her off there. It took him a while simply to get there, since the woman had ended up on the very opposite side of the castle. Finally, he reached her chamber, which was one of the nicer guestrooms. Naturally, it was fastened shut, and though he cursed and banged on the door and attempted to pick the lock, nothing worked. The door was too thick to break down, the locksmiths were probably all drunk (and if he asked them for help the whole city would know about this!) and there wasn't even a window to break into. _Whatever sorry bastard locked that sorry door will pay…_ he vowed as he tried to get it open again. Angry at the failure, he lashed out and kicked it hard. It hurt, and he nearly dropped the thoroughly plastered female. "Ow…ow…pain…pain!" Darnik whimpered and glared darkly at the offending door, which seemed to be laughing at him. Thwarted, he turned sharply on his heel and limped away.

"Well," he muttered irritably to the unconscious figure in his arms, "Guess you'll be staying with me tonight. Oh, goody." In life, when angry, upset, or in pain, fall back on sarcasm.

Her head felt as though it was being repeatedly savaged with a hammer, and she was even more nauseated than was usual in the morning. Feeling positively ill, Yahla staggered upright from where she had been bedded down on the floor, briefly getting tangle in the blankets that she had been wrapped in. Staggering, the dragoness threw up in the nearest receptacle, regardless of what it was. The noise of her violent retching woke the room's other occupant, who stared as she slumped miserably back to the floor.

"You know, that's lovely," the other commented sardonically. "I've always wanted to be woken to the musical sound of someone barfing in my trashcan." That said, he rolled over and put his pillow over his head. For a moment there was the rustle of sheets, then the human stilled again. 

Bleary and disoriented, Yahla asked, "Of what place doth this be?" To her distress, she found herself slurring her words, to the point where it was difficult to tell what she was saying.

"You're in my room," said the muffled voice from under the pillow. 

When he volunteered no further information, Yahla prompted the sleepy windian with, "How didst I comest to be here?" The last her fuzzy mind could remember was drinking too much and not being able to find her room.

"Carried you," came the incomprehensible reply. "Go 'way…'m trying to sleep…"

Slowly recovering from her indulgences of last night, Yahla got back to her feet and went over to the youth's bed. Walking in a not-quite-straight line, she yanked the blankets and pillows off the sleepy one, inducing a cry of protest. 

"Hey! Stop it!" The complaint ended in a yelp as Yahla, irritable and suffering from a hangover, yanked the boy upright by his hair. She dragged him up to eye level, forcibly making him meet her gaze.

"Thou wilt be telling me for what reason I be in thy rooms…" she growled, angry because she felt like crap, and couldn't remember what she had done the prior night or what this human had to do with it. 

"Ow… It isn't my fault that you got drunk and collapsed!" he protested, wincing as she tightened her grip. Clawed fingers started to dig painfully into his scalp. "I tried to get you back to your room, but the door was locked. Would you rather I'd left you in the hallway?" He muttered under his breath, "I know I would…"

Yahla let him go, eyeing his rumpled state. Like she, he had apparently gone to sleep in his clothes last night. "Then thou hast mine thanks for thine aid, and mine apologies for thy rough awakening."

"Yeah, well, I can understand your reaction. I'd be alarmed, too, if I woke up in the room of a total stranger and couldn't remember the night before." He scratched the back of his head, and grinned broadly. "Actually, that happened once with me. Only I woke up in bed without even my skivvies. And it wasn't with a member of the opposite sex."

"Thank thee for sharing," she said dryly, slightly disturbed by the mental image. "I ought be going, for I wouldst change mine dress anon." The garment was wrinkled and looked terrible in such a state. She started to head towards the door, but turned to look back at her unexpected benefactor. "What is thy name, pray tell?"

"Darnik," the windian replied after a moment's pause. "Yours?"

"Yahla. Mine name is Yahla."


	18. Chapter 17 Precedes An Unexpected Amity

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Another chapter! Gosh, what is WITH me? 

Vesta- Thank you, Vesta! I enjoy knowing people like my story. Feel free to review again! ^_^

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In here is briefly mentioned several types of armor. For those of you who don't know them and are too lazy to look it up, here's some definitions.

Jambeaux- armor for the leg below the knee

Greaves- armor for the leg below the knee

Tuille- types of plate armor protecting the thigh

Cuisse- types of plate armor protecting the thigh

Brassard- metal armor covering the arm from elbow to shoulder. 

Vambrace- metal armor protecting the forearm

Gorget- throat armor

Cuirass- metal plates protecting back and front or just front.

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Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Seventeen

…Precedes An Unexpected Amity.

Still dressed in a rumpled evening gown, Yahla quickly made her way to her own room, passing swiftly and silently through the castle halls. The room was indeed locked and she frowned contemplatively as she picked the keyhole with her claws. She knew she hadn't locked it before heading to supper. The door swung open on oiled hinges, revealing the room as she had left it. Her armor was laid out on the carpet, and the dragoness quickly stripped out of the disheveled dress, letting it drift to the floor at her feet. 

She moved to don the suit of mail, but checked herself as she remembered how soiled it presently was. The goddess glanced about the room, noticing that the pile of clothes the maid had brought for her to select from had not been removed and still sat on the edge of her bed. Picking through the heap, she found the dress that had been her second choice the night before. It was white and slinky, comfortable against her skin when she slipped it on. Yahla had to do some contorting to fasten it herself, but she managed with some difficulty. The white dress lacked decoration, but was elegant in its simplicity.

Still suffering from queasiness and a virulent headache, Yahla opened the door to her room and stepped out, closing it as she passed. Though her stomach prompted her not to, she knew she needed to eat, if only to keep up energy. She was pregnant, after all. Thinking thus, the dragoness headed for the kitchen, able to locate it after but a few tries now that she was more lucid. 

After the feast last night, the kitchen was scattered with leftovers of every imaginable kind. The dragoness quickly found that she was not the only one who had gravitated there. Several other guests, all looking as woozy as she, had gathered around a table with leftover bread and cheese. The dragoness made her way between the other breakfasters and grabbed a yellow wedge of cheese and half a loaf of white bread. She retreated into a corner of the kitchen, gnawing on the unfamiliar food in spite of her lack of appetite. After several minutes of forcing herself to eat, she finished off the meal.

Lacking anything better to do, Yahla returned to her room. As she locked the door behind herself, she felt suddenly exhausted and stripped out of the dress, laying it out straight on the floor and moving all of the other dresses off the bed. Then she collapsed on the blanketed mattress and spent the next few hours sleeping off her hangover.

When she finally did awake it was considerably later in the day and she was feeling significantly better. Her hours-long nap had done her a world of good, banishing the aching headache and disorientation. For once, her appetite returned as she rose and dressed, heading once more to the kitchen, this time for lunch. It would, no doubt, be leftovers again.

The pile of leftovers was still there, and all the lunch and breakfast goers had barely made a dent in it. Yahla herself selected a slab of beef and some more bread, and this time tucked in with enthusiasm, though the meal itself wasn't too appetizing. Cold meat and stale bread…how delightful…

Just as the dragoness finished her meal, there was a commotion on the other side of the kitchen, and Elena entered. As usual, the windian was bedecked in pink, this time a frilly blouse that would probably seem more suitable on a nine-year-old. Her eyes lit up when she spotted the goddess.

"Oh, good!" she exclaimed, looking on the verge of clapping her hands in joy. "Father wishes to speak to you! Are you done eating?" 

Before Yahla even managed to say yea or nay, the princess dragged her off to see the king. 

As Yahla set foot inside the throne room, she noticed with some surprise that one of the two guards screening the king was familiar. It was Darnik, dressed in the uniform of the guard, his fair hair hidden under a helmet. He rested a decorated spear against his shoulder, and they exchanged glances as she and the princess entered.

The king was seated on his throne, elegantly robed and crowned. He leaned forward at the sight of the two, and the princess went up to sit next to her father.

Yahla neglected to bow, but no one commented, though one of the guards frowned. She ignored him. Immortals did not bow before mortals, no matter who they were.

"Greetings, Lady Yahla," the king said, his deep voice solemn. "I apologize for not making time for you earlier. Now that we have the opportunity, I wish to discuss the repayment of our debt to your husband. Obviously, no single act will do to repay the rescue and return of our beloved princess, but is there anything we may give you in thanks? As you are the wife of the one who saved her, we will offer you anything you wish." He added, "Anything reasonable," as he saw her eyes gleam.

"I wouldst but food, soap, a map, and compass, and sundry supplies to guide mine way," the dragoness replied after a moment's thought. She saw Darnik, who had overheard everything, watching her out of the corner of her eye. "An thou canst, mine armor needs be cleansed." _'Tis to be hoped that there will be a furbisher somewhere in this place._

"A map of what, Lady Yahla?" the king inquired, smiling slightly. "I assume you are returning to the Empire?"

"Verily," she agreed, smiling sadly. She had already been too long from her home. "I wouldst return to mine husband's side. Thus, I dost require a map of the Alliance, as I knowest not the land. "

Elena's father nodded, drumming his fingers on the arm of his throne. "Very well. You will have all you have asked, though it isn't enough, personally." He frowned, as though he felt there was something else he should offer.

Elena piped up, wide-eyed and sincere as always, "If you don't know your way around the Alliance, shouldn't you also have a guide?"

"It would be wise," the king concurred with his daughter. "I'm afraid you stand out quite a bit, and unless you really wish to be noticed by the Ludians and other hostile groups you would do well to have someone along to cover for you and show you around."

"Mayhap," she conceded, after a long pause. She didn't like the idea of a human around, for many were less than reliable. "Nathless, I dost not find this idea pleasing. I be trusting not thy people, in spite of thine aid."

"Understandable, I suppose," the mortal sighed. The king turned from her when another voice in the room spoke up, an elegant voice that sat between tenor and baritone.

"Ahem, Your Majesty, I will guide the lady," Darnik said from where he stood behind the king with the other guard, for once sounding serious. His countenance matched the tone he portrayed, no smile gracing his lips.

"Grandnephew, why would you want to do such a thing?" the king asked, raising an eyebrow.

The boy shrugged, his grin returning and banishing solemnity. "Hey, I love Elena, and it was Lady Yahla's husband that saved my coz. You really surprised I want to help her out, Majesty?"

Shaking his head, the king chuckled. "No, not really." He addressed Yahla, turning to meet her gaze. "Well, Lady Yahla, it seems young Darnik has decided to accompany you. Will you accept his aid?"

She was inclined to say no…mortals were not trustworthy and she hardly needed an adolescent to complicate her journey. Yahla eyed the young man, who met her gaze steadily from under the rim of his helmet. And yet…it might prove useful to have a companion who knew the ways of the modern world. Certainly, she was lost enough when confronted with the ways of current humans. She sighed and murmured, "Very well."

Newly cleaned armor glimmered up at her as she slipped it on, cinching the girdle about her waist. She couldn't constrict it as tightly as before, and she smiled at the sign of her continuing pregnancy. She estimated she had been pregnant for around three weeks now, almost a month. Which made it little over eight month till she birthed her little dragonet. Hopefully, she would be home by then and Fou-Lu would be able to witness the first moments of their child's life. 

Yahla shouldered the pack of supplies the windians had given her, and glanced one last time about the room to ensure she hadn't forgotten anything. Everything looked in place, and (somewhat reluctant to return to the wilds) she turned to exit. The sack banged against her side as she walked, filled with dry provisions and tools to aid a traveler. 

Darnik was to meet her at the entrance to the castle as the light of dawn brightened into mid-morning. He would be bringing his own supplies, along with any personal items he would need. Whatever he chose to bring, Yahla hoped it would be useful, seeing as she hardly wanted to try and support him with her own supplies. She doubted what she had would last for them both.

Darnik was waiting for her at the elevator leading down into the city, a bulging rucksack hung rakishly over one arm. A spear rested on his unencumbered shoulder and he was no longer dressed as a guard, instead clad in a fighter's clothes that weren't likely to stand out in a crowd. Brown leather shirt and pants went under a steel cuirass and twin cuisses, the tough hide preventing the metal from chaffing sensitive skin. The human also wore a pair of metal brassards and a gorget of hardened leather. He sported knee-high leather boots and thick elbow-length gloves of the same substance, protection against superficial damage of the extremities. A helmet hug low over his eyes, obscuring the blue orbs and casting shadows over his face. Tufts of pale hair stuck out from under it, and Darnik grinned as he spotted her. 

"Hey!" he called, falling into step at her side as they stepped onto the elevator. The platform jerked, then started to lower. "What's up?"

"I be in great haste to be on the road," she replied distractedly, paying little attention to her companion. "For mine path yet is long."

"Guess it's my path, too, now," he observed cheerfully, "Ought to be interesting, at least."

The elevator reached the ground and came to a halt with a bump and the screeching of gears. They stepped out into the town, passing houses and citizens that lined the streets. Yahla heard Darnik humming happily at her side as he kept pace, and scowled at him until he ceased. They both held the silence as they walked, and had almost reached the city gate when Darnik decided to start up a conversation.

"What type of metal is that?" he inquired curiously, tapping his spear on the ground like a walking stick. Yahla glanced down at her armor, then back up at the mortal.

Uncertain what point there was to the conversation, the goddess replied briefly, "I knowest not…For what purpose dost thou ask?"

The windian shrugged, still grinning his head off. "Well, I was just thinking, if it's iron, you could easily be defeated by a giant magnet…" He trailed off as she looked at him incredulously.

"…thou art an annoying mortal," Yahla said after an uncomfortable silence.

"I'll let you know if I see a giant magnet, okay? After all, I'm wearing armor, too. Though not as much…" He finally went quite for a moment, before asking, "Do you think being stuck to a giant magnet would hurt?" 

"Hush!" 

On that note, the two unlikely companions exited the city of Windia, heading west to Shyde, and, from there, the desert.


	19. Author's note and thanks for reviews AKA...

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Authors Note-

Hey, yall. Dis is dat der author, speakin' in tongues 'gain. Whazzup, homie?

…Don't even ask. ^_^ Tierl again, leaving a note for all my fevered readers. Yes, I AM alive. And hopefully the next chapter will be up soon, probably in the next few days. I'm in the middle of it, and it will be called 'Oh, Nuts.' More fun with Yahla. For those of you who are going 'Oh no, more Yahla…what happened to Fou-Lu?' you need not worry. Our darling Fou won't be fading out of the picture anytime soon. In fact, in a while we'll have quite a few chapters focusing only on him, because things are going to be getting pretty busy over in Fou-Lu Land.

'Till my next chapter, take care. Since I'm in school again, my updates have slowed down. So sorry. Anyhow, I'd like to thank each and every one of you who reviewed. You are much appreciated, at least by me. No doubt the rest of the world damns you for offering encouragement. *Grin*

Crimson Primrose- *Eyes glaze at image of Elena throwing a baby shower* Pink! Pink everywhere! Arg! ^_^ Can you just imagine what Yahla would think of it? *Grins* Anyhow, thank you for the complements and thank you for reviewing again, too. I love to see that people like my story enough to come back to it.

Fou-Lou- Well, the next chapter should be up soon. I think. *Wills writer's block to stay far, far away*

Fou-Lu Fan-I promise you, the fic will be updated as soon as possible. And seeing as I've written so much, I wouldn't dream of stopping.

Angelus- I'm flattered to be one of your favorites! Maybe I'll drop by and look over your stuff, too.


	20. Chapter 18 Always a Critic

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I LIVE!!!!!!!!!  


Well, sort of. So sorry about delays. Real life interfered again. After school ended, I had a job three days of the week and plenty of obligations. But my jobs over, and I have a month free summer left. I think I'll use it to try and finish this! The whole rest of the story is planned out, I just have to write it up. Hopefully I'll be able to get back to at least weekly updates. ^_^

Expect next chapter by tomorrow at least!

Thanks for the reviews!

A.C- Trite! Who you calling trite! ^_^ Okay, it is. I put it in as an inside joke with my sister, really. Thanks for review!

Stellice- Thanks! Here's the next chapter, if you're still alive to read it. ^_^  
Braided Baka girl-Football with heads? I always knew Fou-Lu would enjoy sports if offered the right incentive.

Dannii- Hey, my latest reviewer! Look, I hurried! It's three months later!

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Eighteen

Always a Critic

"What?" Fou-Lu demanded angrily, certain he had misheard the mortal. Surely, even Ludia would not be stupid enough to out-right refuse peace with the Empire. "Please repeten thy sentence, for our hearing must be erroneous, as ludicrous as it wouldeth seem. Ludia, refuse us?" He could not quite restrain a sneer. The mortals that dwelled in Ludia would not have the guts or stupidity to do such a thing…would they?

"No…" the messenger said nervously, looking as though he would rather being doing anything else in the world, scrubbing chamber pots included. He apparently wasn't aware that Fou-Lu avoided the 'kill the messenger' type of thing as much as possible. Though the dragon occasionally got peeved, reliable messengers were hard to find. "I'm sorry, Milord, but Your Majesty heard correctly. The Ludians have refused to speak of a permanent truce." 

Fou-Lu scowled, his lips thinning dangerously as his eyes narrowed. "And their sister nations? What of these?" If they refused, the Empire would be forced into another war…which Fou-Lu did not want. Many mortal generations had already gone by. They needed add no others. Though the war would probably not occur until Ludia had consolidated its allies around it.

"Worrent…is considering, and the messengers have yet to reach Windia." Seeming pleased to have more pleasing news, the man added, "The other, smaller nations are all in assent, Your Majesty."

"Very well," Fou-Lu responded, still glowering slightly. He had expected complications, but he had not expected the manipulative Ludians to resist. They had been more likely to cave in for fear of their own petty lives. "Thou mayest depart." He turned his gaze to stare gloomily at the wall, arms crossing pensively in his habitual stance.

The man shifted from foot to foot and stayed were he was, drawing Fou-Lu's gaze back to him. "Um…Milord, there's also a message from the Captain Ursula. The Ludians have attacked the force under her command and forced her to withdraw them. That's also why the messengers haven't reached Windia yet. They've had trouble, too."

Fou-Lu turned fully to face the human, and his look was ominous. "And what doth she do now?"

"She is attempting to get into the Alliance by sailing to the Windian coast, since the deserts are being guarded by the Ludians."

"This is all?" the emperor asked after as substantial pause. When the human nodded, he dismissed him and sat contemplating the turn of events. Things were looking less than good.

Darnik whistled an annoying tune as he tromped through the wilderness at Yahla's side. They had been on the road since morning, and the Windian had apparently decided to relieve monotony with repetitive music.

Yahla glared at him as she voiced her displeasure, pointed ears seeming to flatten against the sides of her head. "An thou start singing, thou wilt suffer unmentionable pain," she threatened, continuing to scan the surroundings. It was quiet, except for Darnik, and the bushes and trees around them moved only to rustle in the wind. Of course, perhaps she missed something, what with her companion whistling and tromping along side her like a three legged elephant. _He_ certainly didn't help her concentration, and it paid the price to be vigilant, even on a trip as short as that between Windia and Shyde.

"Gee, everyone's a critic," the mortal complained, rolling his eyes expressively in her direction. "What are you, tone-deaf?"   
_Oft I wouldst prefer deafness to thee_… "Nay," the dragoness replied tartly, "But in truth I be beginning to suspect thee of such." Darnik, for all that he had a fairly melodic sounding voice, couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. With a lid.

"Oh, I'm hurt," he replied sarcastically, grinning as she glanced at him with annoyance. "But seriously…" He yelped as Yahla suddenly shoved him to the side, knocking him into a clump of undergrowth. "Hey!"

A monster landed heavily where he had been standing and Darnik's complaints died on his lips, unspoken. He reached hurriedly for his spear as he attempted to untangle himself from the brambles. The bilboa snorted at him and shook its hog-like tusks, charging him almost before he had recovered his footing. The windian cursed and brought his spear up to block the charge, aware that the wild tusker could do him some serious damage. It was a large creature, and its thick, bristly hide served to armor it well against him. He managed to sidestep the porcine ungulate, but it circled in pursuit, its bony tail rising like a flag of challenge. Gaining slightly in confidence, Darnik stood his ground to meet its charge. 

A stinging pain suddenly shot through his shoulder and the man winced, distracted just long enough for the boar to get under his spear and bring its curling tusks to bear. It would probably have gouged him from groin to chest had not Yahla intervened. The boar went limp as she snapped its neck, her bare hands proving potent weapons. Darnik murmured his thanked as she continued past him, heading for the pack of Nut Archers that had assembled a ways off and were shooting tiny arrows their way. Like acorns that had decided they'd nothing better to do than grow arms and legs, the little creatures stood only a foot high, but they were fast. The group scattered as the dragoness came after them, and she pursued one into the trees, the agile creature managing to stay barely ahead of her. Darnik followed her example, finding a few moments later that his chosen target was actually a Nut Mage. 

The tiny creature shrilled out a spell and Darnik yelled as his spear caught fire and the iron tip started to melt and bend backwards on itself. The windian cursed and dropped it as it scorched his gloved hands. "Fucking shit!" 

Yahla, who had continued to chase the offensive archer around and had gotten a tear in one wing as a result, spared a moment to glance over and remark, "…thou hast given me a cerebral image of great foulness," the goddess informed him, feeling irate and sarcastic at the moment, primarily due to the Nut that refused to get within her reach. Damn that survival instinct. "I be verily thankful." 

"Oh, don't you even start," Darnik grumbled as the Nut fled entirely, accompanied by its small companions. "I be…I mean, I'm not real happy over here, either." Yahla, their attackers having fled, walking back over to the corpse of the bilboa, ignoring the windian as she heard him mutter, "Damn female, messing with my grammar…"

"Be letting thy griping abate," she advised, leaning to look the body over. The animal was of a decent size and looked to have been fairly healthy before its death. 

The windian groused a moment before his curiosity got the better of him. "What do you want with that thing?" he asked, motioning to the bilboa. As he walked nearer to the creature, he caught a whiff of it and wrinkled up his nose. 

She glanced up at him, still crouched next to the animal. "Supper," she replied impassively, making the windian grimace.

"Oh, gross!" he exclaimed, somewhat revolted at the thought. Pigs weren't exactly the cleanest of animals, after all. "You're going to eat that?"

"Verily," she agreed, amused by his nausea. _Human be such queer beings…Doth he soothly thinketh his docile beasts so greater sanitary?_

"But you don't even know where it's been!" Darnik protested, feeling again like the complete city boy he was.

She shrugged, unperturbed. "This be mattering not, as eftsoons 'twill be in me. Watch for danger whilst I tend to this." 

"Well, I'd love too, but I don't exactly have a weapon on hand right now." The nut mage had certainly seen to that! 

"Thou shouldst take up a stick into hand." 

"A stick isn't a weapon!"

*Thwack!* 

"Okay, okay. I stand corrected…sheesh."

"How your husband manages to put up with you is beyond me," Darnik complained the next day, swiping undergrowth aside with the but of his new stick. He had to admit it wasn't that bad a replacement, though the balance was all wrong and it was much too short. 

"I be his wife," she snipped back. "That meaneth he needs must bear me, least he sleepeth upon the floor for the remainder of his existence."

"Poor guy. You must have him so whipped." Darnik tsked, shaking his head. The motion, combined with a low-hanging tree branch, sent his helmet rolling off into the bushes and he had to scurry to retrieve it.

"Thou hast mine assurance that mine mate be quite capable of his own mind," Yahla said, amused by the thought of her husband being cowed by anything.

"So who is the man?" Darnik asked, as he rather self-consciously replaced his rogue helmet upon his head.

Yahla raised a brow. "Thou knowest not, and yet though hast accompanied me?"

"I _did_ ask Elena about it, but my coz wasn't exactly forthcoming," Darnik defended himself. "But if he saved Elena, Windia can't exactly let his wife wander off in hostile territory." The windian shrugged, his wings spreading slightly with the movement. "Imperial or not. From what I've got your man's a high ranking official in the Empire, right?"

"Verily, thou couldst say this." Yahla agreed, an amused smile playing about her face.

Darnik paused in his stride, leaning against his stick as he turned to look at her. "Oh, I'm funny now, am I? I swear, I just don't get chicks like you."

"Full few mortals do," Yahla replied airily, continuing in her path. She paused and turned several moments later when Darnik did not follow in her wake. He was looking at her oddly and she raised a brow at him. "What be this? Doth the paucity of such seemeth so somber to thee?"

"…What did you mean, 'mortals'?" Darnik demanded softly, still not moving from his spot.

"Come thither, Darnik," she ordered, intending to cover as much ground as possible that day before the sun set and the chill of the air stilled her bones.

"Uh-uh," he replied, watching her with eyes that grew steadily more uneasy. "I'm…not moving. What did you mean, and …what are you?"

Yahla stilled, watching the windian. He avoided her gaze, but his eyes kept flickering back to her. "I be no mortal, little windian, but thou needst not dread me." 

"As long as I do what you want, is that it?" Darnik's knuckles were white as his hands clutched the branch.

"Windian, I be a dragon, not slaver nor deathsman to thee whilst thou dost not obstruct mine path. An thou wouldst depart, aye, do such, and thou mayest live in tranquility save thou speaketh of what thou hast learned."

He paced through the corridors, searching for the peace that eluded him. A pensive air hung about his elegant face and he found himself again at the top balconies, which seemed to be his most familiar haunt as of late. He often visited this place when he was overcome by his own disquiet.

He wasn't the only one with problems, again, he noticed sardonically. General Rhun was there, gazing morbidly into the city. More accurately, through it. From all appearance the general was unaware of the bustling metropolis below, lost in his own thoughts as he was. 

"General," Fou-Lu greeted, making the human jump. He could not but smile at that, and the amusement banished at least a bit of his stress.

"Your Majesty," Rhun said, regaining his composure and masking his embarrassment at being caught so by surprise. "You walk like a cat, my lord," he added wryly.

"Nay…'tis the felid that walketh like a dragon," the emperor countered, walking to join the human at the wall. "And 'tis a pale mimic indeed."

"Of course, Majesty," Rhun agreed, returning his eyes to the city stretched before them.

"What troubles thy mind, General?" the dragon asked, catching again a hint of worry in the general's eyes. 

"I simply worry over the possible consequences of the Ludian situation, Your Majesty," the general said. "The nation is one of the largest and most powerful in the Alliance, and the smaller nations may choose to withdraw their support of a truce in the face of Ludia's refusal. In the worst case scenario, the situation could degenerate into a full blown war again." Rhun glanced over at the dragon, who was no longer smiling. "But perhaps I could dismiss my worries if you told me yours."

"What makest thou thinkest I be carrying any such burdens?" Fou-Lu asked, amused again. Rhun tended to have that affect on him, which was part of the reason he had allow their friendship to progress. Under as much stress as he was, the last thing he needed was to fall into a depression, and Rhun did help to cheer him up on occasion.

"For one, Majesty," Rhun said, managing a smile of his own. "You never come up here, unless you want to think things over."

"Perceptive," Fou-Lu praised, offering a nod of approval. "Verily, I be worried. Ludia, in their insipience, hath also brought arms against thy grandchild's troops." 

"I see." The general, of course, understood the truth of the situation immediately. "No doubt severely delaying the search for your wife."

"Aye." For the moment, that one word answer pretty much said it all. 

"I'm sure it will be alright, Majesty," Rhun offered, trying to reassure his friend as well he could. Though, admittedly, the situation with Ursala worried him as well. Another obstacle in her path put her all that closer to failing her assigned task, and Rhun still wasn't entirely sure whether Fou-Lu would or wouldn't take her head for that failure.

"An thou havest reason for such surety, fortune be upon our side," 

Tyke suckling tot dearest pet Minikin Lambkin Dear heart Nursling Newling Dragonet Yeanling

fleeting ephemeral short-lived ephemeron

fie! Lo!

Braid Coil Tress Lock Curl Plait Ringlet Tendril Tuft Wisp

Ahem Aw Boy Man Gee Goody Heads up Oho Ouch Ow Oy Phooey Uh-huh Uh-uh Whee Whew Whoa Whoops Whoopee Yech Yuck

Awesome barf beat-up cheapskate skivvies clobber come-on conk cool cretin crud dibs ditsy divvy doormat flaky freak glop goof gross hightail humongous kid lunkhead measly ratfink saphead sappy screwup snitch sourpuss tough twerp umpteen wild card yummy

Exenterate eviscerate embowel disembowel gut 

Darnik 

"Every lady needs her knight…and since hers isn't here, you'll just have to go through me. Bring it on, assholes."

23 day preggers.

Haversack knapsack rucksack satchel packsack sacksack…^_^


	21. Chapter 19 Damned If I Know

****

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Nineteen

Dammed if I know

The worren messenger shook his head. "I'm sorry, but the elders said you need to return immediately." The small, wiry man held his mounts reigns in one hand as he spoke, a both the sag of his shoulders and the condition of chestnut horse confirmed that he indeed carried an message of some urgency. No good jockey would otherwise have ridden a good animal into such a shape. Cray took the demand seriously and opened his mouth to enquire, but the rider beat him to it. "It's war again. The army needs a leader. _Worrent_ needs a leader." 

Cray's expression turned grim. With a glance back at his companions (a glance that lingered a moment longer on Nina) he nodded. "Alright. Go back and tell them I'll be on my way."

The messenger nodded and threw a leg over his mount's back. In seconds he was out of sight beyond a bend in the road.

Cray turned back to look at his companions. "Well, I guess that changes our plans."

"But, Cray, what about Elena?" Nina asked.

"I know. Not a good time to take off… but my people need me. You guys keep looking, hear?" He told them.

Ershin rattled a few times, emitting a buzzing whirr before settling back. "Ershin is saying that if there is war again the truce between the Alliance and the Empire must have ended. And she has said it, so it must be true."

Ryu, their quiet, practical leader, spoke up. "If the Empire has redeclared war on the Alliance, or the other way round, do you think we'll be able to get into the Empire?"

"When there's no longer a truce?" Cray asked, looking worried and rather stressed. "Dammed if I know."

Windia was in an uproar as Ryu and companions approached the city. Cray was still with them, since they had been less than an hour's travel from the city, and he wanted to see them there. Like Cray, Nina had to return home in the face of war, if only to let her father know she was safe.

They had been heading north since that earlier discovery that another dragon walked the Great Plains. In the hope of convincing the creature to lend them its powers, they had pursued it. Ryu had managed to pick up a trail with his dragon powers and had lead them north since them. However, he lost the trail often enough that they had little chance of catching up now. Still, the need for Ryu to borrow the power of other dragons drove them on, and it at least gave them something to do until they figured out how to get back into the Empire.

"Windia's preparing for war, too!" Nina exclaimed to herself as they entered the city. In the bustle, no one really noticed their arrival and they made their way toward the palace to greet the king. 

The king was easily found, discussion orders with one of the windians overseeing the troop's deployment. Their discussion was brief and the king turned to go spotting Nina and friends in the same moment. 

"Father, what's happened?" Nina said by way of greeting. "The war's starting back up? I thought…I thought the empire was content with the current peace talks?"

The King moved rapidly to Nina's side. "Nina," he breathed. "Thank god you're safe."

"Nina? Cray? Who are all your friends?"

"I swore, didn't I?" the windian retorted, though his tone betrayed his nerves.

"Humans rare give a wit for prior affirmation," the dragoness replied from where she sat across from Darnik. There was a not inconsiderable space between them, another result of the mortal's misgivings. 

"Your husband saved Elena. And…I knew you were something weird when I signed up for this venture. I just didn't know…" He blew a shuddering breath and ran a hand through his tousled blond hair. His helmet sat on the ground beside him, tipped over on its side. 

The night was chill and full of murmuring insects that sang a counter harmony to the travelers' voices. The trees overhead obscured patched of the night sky; the rest was over cast with clouds. No stars shed their revealing light. They were still on forested terrain, though that would change in a day or so as they crossed over into the desert. Yahla had been hopelessly lost before reaching Windia and now had to backtrack to Shyde, where the windians had assured her she was most likely to find a sandflier. As it was, they were about a day from Shyde. They had traveled for the rest of the day after Darnik had decided he wasn't _quite_ ready to turn tail and run for his life. They had not discussed it for the remainder of the day (Darnik already having had enough shocks) until Yahla had raised the subject again as they stopped for the night.

The windian glanced back over at her. "…what you were," he finished his original sentence. 

Yahla nodded, losing interest in the discussion. Her eyes wandered and she was content to brood in silence her back was paining her that night and she looked forward to bedding down in the warm blankets the windians had packed for her.

The mortal seemed to find the silence uncomfortable, unsurprisingly. Mortals tended to fill a space with chatter even when silence could prove more meaningful. At last he blurted out a few of his thought. "If you're a dragon…if you're so all-powerful, why are you here? Why can't you just…spirit yourself away or fly off over the sea or…something? Why would you need any of our help?"

Tell a mortal of mine condition… Not until he earned her trust, she wouldn't. 

The goddess looked down her nose at him. "There be reasons."

"Do I get to know any of them? Or does your divinity intent to keep me in the dark for however many months we're together?"

The dragoness opened her mouth to retort, then closed it again. The human had a point, especially considering her circumstance. It would be impossible to hide it before long, and she was only lucky already that Darnik hadn't noticed her waking up before him to vomit in the bushes. She still didn't trust him, but if he proved to be a difficulty, she could dispose of him easily enough. She decided abruptly. "I canst nay do of which thou speakest for I be pregnant."

"You're knocked up?" the windian exclaimed. "How…"

Amused, the dragon smirked. "Thy parents ne'er told thee? When a male loveth a female…"  
Darnik's ears reddened. "No! Not that! I mean… how does that mess your powers? Or doesn't it?"

"I be not explaining mine reproductive cycle to thee. Thou needs not know." She told him plainly.

"Alright, fine. I didn't really want a refresher course on reproduction, myself." He glanced at her, a glint of unease in his eyes. "Your husband's, I assume?"  
"Aye,"

"…he's a dragon, too?"

"Aye,"

The windian was reaching, trying to keep the conversation going. He apparently found her talking more comfortable than her sitting there looking mysterious and unapproachable. "What's his name?"

"Fou-Lu," she replied after a moment.

He choked. "Are we talking _the_ Fou-Lu?! Founded the Empire?! He was a _dragon_?!"

"Indeed." She countered his incredulous stare with haughty indifference. 

"Damn," Darnik muttered. "You'd think the history books would have mentioned that. At least something about the wings and claws and stuff."

"We canst assume a human form, as well, mortal," she rebuked, "And 'twas it not e'er that he was known as _God_-Emperor?"

"If you can assume human form, why don't you? I mean, hey! You look all cool and spiffy as it is now, but it make it easy for even lunkheads like me to figure you're something out of the ordinary."

"I be pregnant," she repeated.

"_And_?" He raised his hands to fend her off as her eyes narrowed. "Okay, okay! Not for mortals to know. Gotcha!"

"Shutteth up," she advised him, and went to lie down for the night.

Elena smiled as Cray and Nina both cried out in astonishment. Nina grabbed her in a hug, soon followed by Cray, who lifted them both off the ground.

Eventually, they all let go of each other, though Princess Elena still kept her hand within Cray's.

Nina, grinning with delight even as her mind reel in confusion, demanded, "How? You were in the empire, they captured you! How are you here? The war…"  
"Isn't with the empire, " their father interrupted. "We've gone to war with Ludia."  
They all gaped at him. Cray shook his head. "What the…why?!"

"Our relations had…well, it all sort of went down hill after Father dissolved my engagement to the Ludian prince." Elena told him

"Yes," the king added, ignoring Cray's open mouthed gape of astonishment. "They originally declared war on Worrent, for choosing to accept the permanent peace the Empire was offering."

"You dissolved the betrothal!?" Cray blurted as the same time as Nina spoke up. 

"The Empire's offering permanent peace!? But they kidnapped Elena!"

The king chose to answer Nina's question. "Yes, permanent peace. The emperor Soenil and his court have been overthrown. In fact, by the same individual who undid the experiment the Imperials had committed on your sister and returned her to us safely."

Elena, in the meantime, answered Cray, although her reply used no words.

The King finished his sentence just as Cray began, "Your Majesty, as the Ludian is no longer to wed your daughter… may I ask her hand in marriage?"


	22. Chapter 20 A Paltry Sum

_Very short chapter her e Mostly because its hard to motivate me to write the Ryu and friends parts), but it will pick up, soon. We'll be back to Fou-Lu by next chapter._

**Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.**

Chapter Twenty

A Paltry Sum

            That midday they trudged into Shyde, the sun beating hot overhead. Shyde was a small but lively place, built of sun bleached brick and people by sun burnt merchants who immediately tried to sell them things. Darnik, who had assured her he knew the place, led them up a flight of stairs and along the top of the city's wall. They crossed a large bridge that was designed to let sandfliers pass under without harm, and came to a small, square building.

            The man inside looked up to greet them. Darnik had earlier convinced her to let him do the talking, since sorting out language barriers would make bargaining even harder than it already was.

            Darnik began by explaining that they wanted to buy a sand flier. The other mortal hemmed and hawed and replied with a price that made Darnik exclaim loudly about the morals of robbery.

            When it became clear that the man wasn't going to lower the prices any, no matter how dramatic Darnik became, Yahla interrupted and took things over.

            "That wasn't fair, Yahla," Darnik complained. "I was doing fine bargaining on my own."

            "Yon merchant was soon to be throwing thee in the street," Yahla informed him. She had handled matters much better. Within minutes they had their own new sandflier. She had to do some extensive intimidation to convince the man to give them the sandflier and contact the empire to cash in his credit.

            "You threatened to throw him in the street," Darnik said, "No, you did more than that. You terrorized the poor guy into accepting a false line of credit in exchange for his life."

            "'Twas no falsity," Darnik blinked and she continued, "Mayhap thou hast forgotten whom I be wed with." As the human mulled over that, she commenced obtaining the supplies they would need (mostly of water) and bullied one of the merchants into halving the price of a new spear for Darnik.

            "So when the guy contacts the Empire they actually will pay him back? Somehow I don't think your hubby will like getting the receipt," Darnik said after they had finished shopping and headed out to their new means of transport. 

            "'Tis a paltry sum," she replied, shrugging.

            "A paltry…okay, whatever." They came in sight of their new sandflier and Darnik whistled in appreciation. It was a sleek vehicle, obviously newly commissioned. The stabilizing back wings and the engine were all without wear or tear and the hull gleamed dully in the sun. "Dude," Darnik breathed reverently, then glanced at Yahla, grinning. "I drive!"

            She looked incredulously at him. "Thou, why thou?"

            "Because my time period invented the sandflier and they didn't exist in yours." The reason sound lame, even to him, and Yahla rolled her eyes.

            "…Dost thou e'en ken the method of driving?" she inquiered sharply, raising a brow as he stuttered.

            "Erm…well…" He grew increasingly sheepish, and the answer was clear enough. He certainly didn't.

            Yahla smirked. "As I didst think. I wilt drive." She jumped up onto the deck of the vehicle, leaving Darnik standing in the sand below.

            As he clamored after her, he murmered unhappily, "…Dammit."

            "Are you guys sure you want to do this?" Cray asked, watching his friend with brotherly concern. Well, she was his soon to be sister-in-law, after all. "Now that Elena's safe…you could stay here, Nina." He offered the later rather hopefully, though he knew the response he'd get.

            The little windian shook her head, blond hair bouncing and a few hair pins going to skitter in all directions. "I can't, Cray. Ryu had to get to the Empire, to meet his other half…I won't abandon him. You know that, don't you? And because we can't get to the empire, or do anything to thank this Fou-Lu, we might as well try to see his wife stays alive." 

            "Are you sure? The Ludians will try to kill you, if they can. You'll be risking your life," he said, imagining just what Elena would have to say if he let her little sister run off and get killed. Still, he was proud of her loyalty, and if not for the war, and his new fiancée, would probably have been accompanying them. 

            "So? They'll try to kill her, too, won't they? And…it's a small price to pay, to have Elena back again." Nina looked up at him, and the spark in her eyes told him there would be no changing her mind, this time.

            "Alright, Nina." He smiled. "You win."


	23. Chapter 21 An Hourglass Runs

****

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Twenty One

An Hourglass Runs

He was a young man, not yet thirty, and in the prime of his life. A tax collector in the Empire, he was used to the good things in life, and it showed. His cheeks were plump and powdered and his carefully coiffured hair held its shape as he paid his attention to his two dinner companions. Twin girls, delicate and giggling, young, just like he liked them. He smiled at them, and they tittered flirtatiously, blushing as one of servers entered the room with their meals. A lass on each side, the man tucked in with vigor. His day was going well, especially with the attention of two lovely ladies eager for his approval. What more could he ask for? 

Midway through the meal, his grip on his utensils became not so good, and he felt the need, suddenly, to go lie down. But his duty as a host constrained him and he stay and laughed and chatted until he finally fell heavily against the table, his head falling to rest upon it. His tongue was swollen in his mouth, and his face had gone pale and grey, as if all the life had been sucked out of it. And, indeed, it had.

Then the screaming started, but the tax collector did not hear it.

"Another dozen reported dead today, majesty," the page boy told him, wide brown eyes fixed on the emperor's face. He was a little young for messenger duty, but he had, for some reason, developed a near puppy-like case of hero worship toward the emperor. That was annoying in its own, but it made for a change at least, for the boy had no fear for him whatsoever. "All merchant class, milord." The child waited patiently for his reply where he stood on the steps of Fou-Lu's throne room.

_A dozen…these deaths be increasing, and yet the killers evadeth all attempt. And there hath passed a sennight since they commenced, even. _"And of the poisoners? What be of them?" the God-Emperor asked, hoping wearily for a reprieve. 

The boy shook his head, the movement making his tightly pinned topknot bob in place. "Sorry milord, but they're too quick. They kill 'em and get away before they die and there isn't any trace at all." The child looked a bit distressed he had no better news to offer his idol, and bit at his lower lip as he delivered the information.

"I ken this," he said, quite tired with the whole business. It showed in his eyes, and in the slight slump of his proud shoulders. The humans had poor enough senses that he doubted they had noticed as they continued to bring them their problems. "Thou mayest quit this place," 

"Thank you, milord," the boy said, offering a bow and scurrying off, leaving Fou-Lu to his thoughts and his exhaustion. Things were not going well for the dragon, and he was drawn too thin, trying to deal with crisis after crisis. There was little alternative, for who could he delegate such problems to? For the time being, he would have to manage. 

His list of problems was long and stressful. His wife remained missing from his side, pregnant, and both Won-Qu and A-Tun had left to aid in the search. Captain Ursula reported no progress in her search and was currently attempting to sail to the Windian coastline, a journey of nearly a month's time. The Ludians had refused to consider peace and attacked all Imperials in Alliance territory, including the ones carrying messages of peace to the other nations in the Alliance. His own people had been eager to resume the war, due to the generations of previous warriors who had fallen to the alliance, and it was all the God-Emperor could do to keep them on a leash. And, of course, results of the war remained and demanded repair. Had he the time, Fou-Lu would have gone personally to repair the Causeway he had built so long ago, but he was effectively pinned at the palace by other duties and responsibilities. And now, the poisonings had begun. 

They had started out a minor official here and there, alarming none but the friends and families of the departed. But the deaths increased in number, and the merchant class was falling like flies. Most fell dead during their daily routine; others never woke from their nightly rest. So far, no one higher than a minor official had been affected, but the remaining minor officials had fled or barricaded themselves in their homes. The tax collectors did not do their duty, the merchants did not sell, and this had its affect on the economy. It had only been a week…but people were afraid. They were afraid and suspicious and when rumors of Ludians as the responsible party began, they spread like wildfire.

The miles skimmed by under the sandflier, but the hours seemed to linger on. Darnik started out at the stretch of empty sand, bored out of his mind. Apart from the occasional shrub bush and patches of cacti, there was only sand and enough empty space to drive him mad. After the first couple days, the scenery had lost whatever charm it started with. They'd been in this miserable place for the past nine days, and the windian was fairly certain he had sand in every accessible crevice by now. Maybe if he was allowed to drive, it might be more fun, but as it was…

He was jolted out of his thoughts when his point of view did nearly a ninety-degree turn and he slid down the deck. "YAHLA!!!" Looking back behind them as he clung to the side of the vehicle, he saw the hill that she'd just gone over and turned back to glare at the grinning dragon. 

She smiled sweetly at him, baring her sharp teeth. She was about a month along, from what she'd told him, and it was beginning to show in the roundness of her middle. "Thou didst appear bored. Wert thou?"

"No, I was enthralled in counting sand grains again," he retorted sarcastically, rubbing his hands together gather some heat. Yahla had informed him they would be travelling by night to avoid the searing sun and he had agreed. He'd had no idea that it would be _cold_ in the night! Alternatively baking in the day and freezing in the night, this trip was quickly loosing its charm. "You should try it. It really livens up a party. While you do that, why don't you let me take that wheel for a while."

"Returneth to thy counting, Darnik," she ordered, continuing to drive like a bat out of hell as he sighed mournfully.

Such a long time to cross the desert, and nothing to do at all…

"Majesty, we can't simply stand for this," the advisor exclaimed noisily, growing agitated at the emperor's noncommittal responses. The old man, Counselor Jiaoyo, was one of the throne's traditional advisors, and had an overrated image of his own self-importance. As it was, half the time Fou-Lu could barely stand to be in his presence without strangling him "The Ludians will weaken us until we are vulnerable and strike then! Those savages would stoop to far worse than poison to win this war! We must strike first, wipe them out before they can continue their poisonings and their plotting!" 

The poisonings, indeed. They had worsened, grown alongside rumor and panic. The army had been struck, good officers and men falling left and right from no enemy they could combat. The nobles, too, had been made a target, much to the dismay and panic of those in question. They were used to their money and power buying them safety, but it had failed them, for once. Many barred themselves in their homes. Others fled the city, for it was here, it seemed, that the murders were concentrated.

"Enow," the emperor said firmly, rousing himself enough from his thoughts to reply. "We shall not be attacking the Ludians without provocation. An the war returns, alloweth them to be the instigations." 

"Majesty!" the advisor protested, wringing his bony hands in distress. "The poisonings…"

"Enow!" he snapped, growing angry at the constant demands upon him. The human shrank back from his glare. "What proof haveth thee? A needless stretch of time was taken by that war. It be no more. Begone, advisor. Thy voice grates upon mine ears." He turned a cold glare on the human, bidding him to leave. The human apparently remembered an urgent appointment elsewhere. He begged forgiveness for such an abrupt departure and bowed and scraped himself out of the room. 

Fou-lu sighed. Too much to do, to little time in which to do it. Such was his lot in life. 

Muddy spray misted her face and the deck around her as Captain Ursula stood on the deck of one of the few transport ships of the Imperial Navy. The muddy oceans were a sailor's nightmare, but the high tech empire had compensated with a specially designed navy that had allowed them to get a drop on the Alliance throughout the war. Most of them had been destroyed in the war, and while the Causeway had still provided a bridge between the Empire and the Alliance, no one had seen the need to have the navy immediately rebuilt.

Aboard her flagship, Ursula observed the other ship that sailed in their wake. Of the last six ships of the Empire retained, Ursula had taken two to transport her and her task force to their destination. They were making good time, and would be within site of the rocky windian coast within the day. If they were lucky, they wouldn't have to take a day or two sailing up and down the coast trying to find somewhere to come ashore. 

"Captain! Land ahead!" one of the sailors called, and Ursula nodded in acknowledgment. 

Eager to discharge her duty (and to get this ridiculous search for a mythological creature out the way) Ursula couldn't but think that it was about damn time.


	24. Chapter 22 Unknown Danger

****

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Twenty Two

Unknown Dangers

"You've our assurance that we come in peace, Your Majesty," Ursula told the king, standing at respectful attention as he inspected her. Her force had landed on the Windian coast the day prior, and had been greeted by a group of suspicious Windians who had insisted (rather forcefully) that she pay her respects to their king. Being under orders not to start any wars, Ursula had been forced to swallow her pride and accompany the windians as their "guest." Her task force had been stationed outside the city, under the watch of their hosts.

"Yes, an armed regiment is a very peaceful signal, General," the king agreed sarcastically. Ursula, a proud woman, bristled at his tone, but held her peace as the man continued, "Tell me, what does the Empire want?" 

"Your Majesty, our orders have nothing to do with your subjects," she informed him, reluctant to give information to those who might be of hostile intent. She knew the Ludians remained at odds with her people, but what stance the Windians took on such things was unknown. "I don't really know what the emperor's intentions for your nation are, but we are merely passing through." 

"To do what, General?" the king asked with increasing impatience. It was clear he didn't enjoy dancing around the issues any more than she did. "While I understand the value of maintaining military secrecy, surely you understand that I can't simply allow an Imperial force to wander around in the Alliance without knowing their intentions."

"My mission is to return to the Empire with one of our missing citizens, Your Majesty." She remained silent on further details for the security of her mission, though the kitsune admitted to herself she would also rather not speak of her orders, least the king think her mad. A dragon was hardly a common quarry for an Imperial officer. 

The king was silent a moment and she could nearly see the gears turning in his head. At last, he seemed to reach a decision. "Tell me, General," he inquired slowly. "This wouldn't happen to be a woman you're looking for, would it?"

"How did you know that?" she demanded, sufficiently surprised that she accidentally blurted out confirmation to his question. Embarrassed and angry at the outbreak, she continued in the same vein. "What do you know of this!?"

The king smiled, and Ursula realized she had offered him the upper hand without meaning to. "I know relatively little of your mission. But, you see, we had a rather unusual guest a while ago, and considering her connections to the Empire, I rather doubt that your arrival here is coincidental."

Ursula regarded him for a second. "Your Majesty, please tell me more."

Fou-Lu leaned back against the wall in one of the rare-used corridors of his palace, for once finding a moment to catch his breath and hid from his subjects at the same time. They were running him ragged, he observed with wry exhaustion as he let his eyes sag closed for a moment.

It seemed only a moment before a voice woke him. It was soft and unintrusive, as if its owner couldn't decide whether to interrupt or not. "Majesty?"

Senses dulled by stress, he had to open his eyes before recognizing the voice. "General," he said with some relief and a bit of genuine pleasure at seeing the other again. The crisis had created an excess of work for both, and they had hardly seen one another for several days. "I hadst feared thou wert that damnable advisor come again to hound me." Fou-Lu was of an opinion that if people would let him alone to try and fix things, he might actually get something done. As it was, he seemed to spend most of his time trying to placate his panicked citizens.

"If you're speaking of the man I think you are, he won't be bothering you again, Majesty," Rhun informed him, taking a step back as he saw his emperor was awake. "He collapsed in one of the halls just a few minutes ago." 

"Though I wouldst offer mine regret, 'twould be a falsity." The dragon came up from his slump against the wall to regard Rhun. His friend was looking almost as stressed as he. "Thou wert seeking me, Rhun?"

"Yes, actually," he replied somberly, "We received more news of the poisonings today, and I volunteered to carry it, considering our camaraderie." 

"Foul news, then," Fou-lu observed impassively, not particularly welcoming whatever it was. The nation was in dire enough straits without taking it any further. 

"Very." Rhun paused a moment and leaned up against the wall opposite Fou-Lu. At Fou-lu's questioning look, he explained, "A sudden dizzy spell. I haven't been sleeping enough, lately."  
"Nor I," the dragon admitted ruefully. "Anow, thou hadst best be informing me of this news, least we both be forgetting and taketh a bit of rest instead."

"Yes." The general agreed, seeming to regain control of his tired mind. "Well. Before you drift off again, the poisonings are no longer confined to Chedo, Your Majesty. We've had reports…six villages around the Empire have been struck. The water supplies were poisoned. There were…no survivors." The emperor sighed and looked simply too tired to be upset with the news, so Rhun continued imploringly, "My lord…something must be done. There is panic the city, panic and the rumors of the Ludians, coming to kill us all. In insisting upon peace, you have set yourself against the masses. They will revolt if something isn't done." 

"Dost thou think me mindless?" Fou-Lu snapped, suddenly angry with the situation…and himself. "Full oft I have tried, and yet mine efforts bequeath naught. What ought be done, then, General? What advice haveth thee? What counsel?" Fou-Lu was a dragon, and could stand alone against any mortal he had ever met, but should his subjects rise against him it could prove the end of the empire. One person could only subdue so many without supporters.

"I can offer nothing, Your Majesty," Rhun said, his tone apologetic.

Fou-Lu sighed, then noticed for the first time just how run down Rhun really was. The human trembled slightly, and his skin was paler than normal. "Be thou well, Rhun?" he asked with concern, his anger spent with his outburst.

"I…" The general shook his head, and Fou-lu realized his pupils were dilated oddly, considering the lighting in the room. 

He reached the general's side just in time to keep him from splitting his head open on the floor as he toppled.


	25. Chapter 23 Why I?

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Heya, here's more! 

rainbowrose- Don't worry, I'll continue updating. I swear. You don't need to chain me to the keyboard…really you don't! *Makes a break for it and runs away*

****

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Twenty Three

Why I?

It was near dawn and the sun colored the desert horizon pink with its coming. It was a beautiful and inspiring sight, although one neither Yahla nor Darnik welcomed. With the rise of the sun the desert grew hot and unbearable for any unaccustomed living creature. It also signaled to the two travelers that it was time to stop and rest until the heat of the day departed again. 

However, this time Yahla did not pull the sandflier over and prepare to stop for the day. Instead she kept the vehicle moving, though her foot eased slightly on the pedal. Darnik glanced at her with a frown. "Hey, what's up?" After over two weeks in the desert, he and Yahla had established somewhat of a routine, traveling by night and sleeping by day. They had also grown to have more than an uncertain tolerance for one another. Darnik had found himself dismissing his original species induced doubts about her and at some point begun to respect and admire the female. In return, the dragoness had begun to trust him more and occasionally would speak of her past to the human. He had been startled to learn her age, but after a point he found that reminders of her strangeness no longer disturbed him. He had the feeling that she was fond of him, even if she thought he was insane. She tolerated his odd sense of humor, and he had even managed to make her laugh once or twice.

The dragoness made a brief gesture to the landscape before them, and Darnik could almost make something out if he squinted. However, the rising sun had dazzled his eyes and he turned to his friend for further information. He seemed to find himself relying on Yahla's keen eyes often these days. She responded to his questioning look patiently, "'Tis an oasis. 'Twould be best to refill our supplies of water and food there while it is available."

"Are you sure we should?" he asked, remembering all the cautionary tales he'd heard of visitors to the desert dying of water they'd thought safe to drink. "In the desert only an oasis with polluted water is left unoccupied."

She turned to look at him strangely. "There _be_ a village about it, Darnik."

"…Oh."

They neared the oasis soon enough, and Darnik had to cling to the rail as Yahla swerved to a stop and jumped down from the sandflier. Yahla drove like a bat out of hell, and as her familiarity with the sandflier's controls had grown her daring had grown. He followed behind her as her feet touched down on the sand and she headed off at a trot.

Yahla walked into the small settlement with Darnik at her side, drawing the usual assortment of odd looks from the locals. The tiny oasis housed over a dozen tents and sandstone buildings that ringed the pool. The inhabitants greeted them politely, apparently used to guests of all shapes and sizes. A few minutes later they were refilling the water tanks on their sandflier and packing newly purchased food away for later. The friendly villagers offered use of one of their tents if Yahla and Darnik wished to rest for the day. Since the sun was already clearing the horizon, they accepted and prepared to sleep out the heat.

Fou-Lu glanced down at the sick bed and its occupant. General Rhun lay there, so still and pale that the dragon had to resist the pull to check his pulse to see whether he still drew breath. He had lingered near death for almost a week, now. Fou-lu had pressed some of his life force on the human when he had first fallen, but he had only barely survived, and whether he would heal or die remained a question. Fou-Lu couldn't say with total honesty how he felt about the situation. Rhun was only a mortal, but he had become a friend and bore the blood of Mal-Heu. It had been that bloodline that originally encouraged Fou-Lu, slow to befriend or trust, to accept the friendship. _A friend…But four mortal companions there have been in mine long life…and this Rhun be the last of them._ Then again, wasn't that why he distanced himself from humans so? _Overbid them an eon I will… Little wonder that of all the dragons, it e'er hath been only Yahla and I that dwelleth near or e'en with those of mortal kind. _

One of the healer's assistants entered, carrying a platter on one arm. Fou-Lu had opted on lunchtime in which to check on his friend, and the healer had sent his assistant to see that their ruler didn't forget to eat. He had done that several days ago, and it had rather excessively worried the kitchen staff. In this time of crisis, the last thing any of his mortal servants wanted was for him to be unable to handle the situation due to malnourishment or simple ill health. He hadn't bothered informing them that he had no real need to eat.

More to placate the humans than anything else, Fou-Lu swiped a morsel from the tray and nibbled on an edge, waving the servant off when more was offered. He chewed, prepared to swallow…then the alarms went off in his head.

He spat out what he had chewed and lunged for the poisoner, who dropped the tray and sprinted for the door. The man didn't get far. The instant poison he himself had taken slew him before Fou-Lu could do more than reach the body, and see the mocking expression on its face. 

He would not let it go at that. The dead body's soul, freed, escaped its mortal prison…but not his metaphysical hands. 

He heard the ghost scream in rage at its predicament, but ignored it and ordered the specter, "Speak."

It was instinct that woke her, jolting her out of her dreams an instant before a heavy hand closed over her face. She struck out instantly, lashing out with a clawed hand to rake the human across the eyes. The man released her and she knocked the club he carried from his hand before he could recover. She rose quickly, whirling to dodge the attack of a second mortal. Her pregnancy slowed her movement and the human clipped her on the shoulder with his weapon, spinning her into the other side of the tent. She kept her feet under her this time, and was ready for the first man's attack when it came. She caught him in the face with the back of one of her wings, and as he stumbled, she raked the back of one leg with her clawed toes. The human fell, effectively hamstrung, and she ripped him open with her talons. The other human came at her while she was thus occupied, but she caught him in the face with an elbow and sent him to the ground with her following right hook. 

Yahla stood quietly panting as the last man gurgled his life out on the floor, his windpipe collapsed in on itself from her last blow. It was daytime outside the tent, and the sweltering heat produced sweat that clung to her like a second skin. Tuning her ears to the world outside the awning, she heard the villagers going about their daily chores, but nothing suspicious. With a last glance at the door to the tent, she dragged the two dead men father back into the shadows and performed a rudimentary search of the two bodies. The search turned up nothing. As she could determine nothing of their origin and the dragoness slipped quietly out into the daylight. 

Her pupils shrunk to pinpoints as the glaring sun hit them, and she stood blinking dumbly in the light before her vision reasserted itself. Then she moved toward the tent beside her own, where Darnik had been offered a place to rest. The tent flap was closed and there was no sound from inside. She nudged the flap open and slipped in, again forced to pause as her eyes readjusted to the poor lighting. 

Darnik was inside, sound asleep and sprawled haphazardly across his bedding. From appearances he had suffered no attacks, and the dragon couldn't help but be mildly dismayed at confirmation that she had been the sole target. _For what reason I?_

Dismissing her thoughts for the time being, Yahla stepped over to her unconscious companion and shook him awake.

"What the fuck?!" the human demanded as he came awake suddenly and violently, groping around in the dim light for his spear. "Who…" He stopped as his eyes focused on the dragon standing over him. "What is it?" the windian asked again, reducing his volume at her signal.

She made no real response, motioning for him to stand and gather his things, "We quit this place. Now."


	26. Chapter 24 A Losing Battle

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Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Twenty Four

A Losing Battle

The warehouse on the end of town that the ghost had directed him to was old and run down. It was hardly a lead, but the dead man had known nothing, only where he had met his previous employer. Even that was likely to prove a dead end, but Fou-Lu was running out of options, and so had set out to seek what clues he could. Tired and drained, Fou-Lu had little eyes for the building upon his arrival. It was the man in front of it that drew and held his attention. The human had a prominent nose and chin, and blond hair that was fairly unusual in the Empire. He was clearly waiting for something, and the man smiled as Fou-Lu approached. "So you did come. Really, I was starting to wonder if you would."

The other's arrogant, mocking tone immediately got on Fou-Lu's nerves, and he voiced his thoughts with a sneer. "Humph! Didst thou? But in what way couldst I not?" the dragon asked contemptuously, stalking forward toward the other.

"I suppose you wonder why," the man said cavalierly as the dragon approached him with murder in his eyes. The image of the cultured, spoiled nobleman, the human smiled as Fou-Lu stopped in front of him. "Normally, I'd love to chat, but I'm afraid I'm a bit busy today." 

The human was fast and Fou-Lu, worn to a thread, had no time to dodge the knife that sprouted between his ribs.

Even weak as he was, the wound didn't prove fatal, but he found himself dropped to one knee by the surge of agony and his sudden inability to inflate his lungs. He heard the human laugh as his own blood pooled behind his lips, and the dragon struggled a moment simply to breathe. Then he lifted his head, and his eyes were as red as if they, too, bled. The human's laughter died. Enraged, he pulled himself to his feet, feeling the knife dig in deeper as if a hand still guided it. He ignored it, and gave chase to the attacker, who promptly retreated inside the warehouse with all the haste the situation warranted.

Though in disuse, the building still stored old goods that no one had taken the effort to remove. The walls were stacked high with bales of wool and cotton, the floor carefully lined with thick straw to absorb the moisture. There was an odd smell in the air, but he was in no state of mind to notice it and sprang at his quarry. The man retreated further, and the dragon followed.

He nearly had his hands around the bastard's throat when a noise behind him spun him around. The warehouse doors slammed shut with a resounding thud---and locked from the outside.

"Now, Saruk!" his opponent yelled, exuberant, and Fou-Lu suddenly recognized the smell around him. They had soaked the building in kerosene. Already exhausted, Fou-Lu willed himself into dragon form, knowing he couldn't possibly survive the situation in his vulnerable mortal body. But he was tired, and his energy drained. He was slow to make the change and he had only just begun the transformation when every flammable surface in building exploded and the air itself turned into an inferno. 

He heard a scream, knew it was his own, and felt his wings explode from his back, shriveling in the heat even as they grew. His transformation to dragon became complete, and though the fire still burnt and offered him agony, it would not kill him. 

Then the building moaned around him and the pre-weakened supports gave. The burning warehouse collapsed on his head and the neighboring buildings, also on fire, toppled to bury him.

Direly wounded and weak, he tried valiantly to rear up and free himself---and couldn't. He fell feebly back under the rubble, and the darkness consumed his thoughts.

The sun was close to setting when Yahla first noticed they were being tailed. Two sandfliers followed in their wake, far enough back that even the dragoness could barely tell that they were there. Darnik had taken her word on the existence of their pursuers, and as the other two vehicles began to pull even with them around midnight, they were both expecting the coming confrontation. 

The two sandfliers moved to keep the other vehicle pinned between them, and Yahla was not at all surprised to see the passengers of the other vehicles manning guns. The other two vehicles were unmarked, with no indication of their origin, and their crew wore no uniforms or insignia to betray their purpose. 

Unwilling to wait for the first shots to be fired, Yahla floored the accelerator. The engine whined at the strain, then they shot forward, leaving the other two sandfliers to give chase. Their engines shrieking under the strain, the two carriers rocketed forward, vying to come even with their quarry. Yahla had a head start, and managed to maintain it as they covered the desert terrain at breakneck speed. Apparently tired of the game, one of the ships began a volley of shots, most missing the zigzaging transport. The last shot succeeded, striking the sandflier in the aft and starting a fire along the left side. The other vehicle prepared its own attack and Darnik clung desperately to the railing as Yahla brought the sandflier about in an about-face turn. The first vehicle followed her, and the second, unable to stop its volley in midair, caught it full across the hull. The following detonation sent up a spray shrapnel as the first pursuing vehicle exploded in a blast of fire and the smell of charred flesh. 

Yahla grinned ferally and urged her transportation to greater speed as the remaining attacker flagged behind, dismayed by the death of its comrade. But…the shot they had taken and the resulting fire had done their damage, and the engine spluttered noisily and died. She heard Darnik swear and curse, and saw the enemy sandflier coming up behind them with new resolve. Whatever their initial purpose in pursuit, they were now out for blood. 

As her sandflier's velocity began to fade, the dragoness spun it around and braced herself as her sandflier rammed the pursuing vehicle dead center.


	27. Chapter 25 Usurper's Fate

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Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Twenty Five

Usurper's Fate

General Rhun slowly returned to consciousness, his mind swimming with dizzy images. "Are you awake, sir?" a voice politely inquired. Rhun cracked his eyes open, feeling like he'd suddenly gained twenty years. "Hold still for a moment, General. Let yourself adjust." 

A minute later he was able to focus on the other, and see the doctor's smiling face. He recognized the man as one of the better healers in the castle, who often cared for the higher-class officials. Although, in the past Rhun had never personally required the man's services.

"Congratulations on surviving the poison, General," the doctor said cheerfully. Rhun couldn't help but notice he spoke in that tone of voice doctors always think improves their bedside manner. It merely grated on the general's nerves. "You're the only one who did, though you've been out of it for the past seven days. I'm afraid you need to get up now. While I'd prefer to have you rest a bit more, the emperor has insist that all high ranking officials attend him."

"Now?" Rhun rasped, still a bit out of it. This wasn't like Fou-lu at all. His friend had always been of the opinion that an individual could better fulfill his obligations without unnecessary interference from superiors. The likelihood of all the high-ranking officers in the Empire screwing up sufficiently for Fou-Lu to call them to task personally was next to nil. The question of what Fou-Lu found important enough to call such an assembly drove him to slide out of bed, swaying and relying on the doctors supporting arm. 

He managed to locate and don his uniform with some help from the other human and was ushered him out a moment later. Dizzy but regaining his balance the longer he was awake, he made his way to the throne room. The throne room was a fair distance away, and by the time he reached it he had managed to clear some of the fog from his head. Upon arrival, he pushed his way through the crowd until he found a clear space to lean against one of the mahogany walls. Tired as he was, he didn't know how long he'd be able to stand, and he had a good enough view of the throne, anyway. If they were lucky the emperor wouldn't see the need to keep them waiting. Sometimes it seemed that the immortal Fou-Lu forgot that mortals were bound by the passage of time and could only spend so long awaiting his arrival before they died of old age.

There, the emperor had arrived. But…Rhun felt his heart sink as the newcomer assumed the throne and a herald announced the arrival of the Emperor Saruk. Rhun recognized the man, having had previous experience with his family. The tall man turned an aristocratic face to the crowd.

Saruk rose to address the audience, many of whom were likewise stunned as Rhun, others who were delighted. "Our subjects, We grieve most profoundly to speak of this, but we have grave and sorrowing tidings. Our most noble, beloved predecessor, the Emperor Fou-Lu, has perished in this time of troubles."

There was a murmur throughout the crowd and Rhun felt a familiar wetness at the corners of his eyes as the news sank in. He wished he could deny the dragon's death, accuse Saruk of falsehood…but the truth of the matter was that no one would dare to sit the throne of the God-Emperor while he still lived.

Saruk continued, dramatic grief in his voice ,"Alas, the mighty founder of Our wondrous people is no more." His voice rose, a hint of anger striking sharply out. "But heed Us, that glorious one will be avenged! It was the Ludians who saw that Our people dearly loved him, that no war could be won while he sat the throne! It was Ludia that conspired to destroy mighty Fou-Lu; it was Ludia that has wrecked the havoc of this last, tragic month! The empire has lost much, but in striking, the Ludians have revealed themselves! Their treachery will not go unpunished! In the name of the Fou Empire, We will crush them with Our wrath! The war never ended, for Ludia has ever plotted against the might of the Empire."

Rhun slowly began to tune out the new emperor's words, still trying to come to grips with Fou-Lu's unexpected demise. In spite of the odds, he had come to think of the strange dragon as one of his closest friends. Fou-Lu had been an individual that the General could admire from the start; a strong, principled individual with a code of honor near Rhun's own. Their mutual respect for one another had grown into friendship, and the human suspected that he had the dragon to thank for his continued life after being poisoned. 

Saruk's denunciation of the Alliance and the Ludian people in particular continued for sometime, but Rhun never really heard a word of it. His only thought toward the situation was that Fou-Lu would have hated the situation. After all his efforts to restore peace and undo centuries of war, the Empire was going back to war in his name. Although, Rhun suspected he would appreciate the irony. 

At last, the emperor, out of breath, finished with. "You are dismissed. Inform Our people of Our decision, and of Ludia's treachery."

The crowd, bowing and murmuring, turned to leave, carrying Rhun along with them. But they all froze, numerous individuals running into each other in their haste, at the sight of the entrance. Or, more precisely, who was in it.

Fou-Lu, bloody and covered in burns, stepped into the room. His ripped and torn clothes were stained black with soot and still wet with blood. His hair, singed and gray with ash, stood in a wild mane about his head. The pale skin of the dragon-emperor had taken on a ghastly hue that was found more commonly on those already passed beyond the reach of life. He was smiling.

He moved toward the stunned crowd, his eyes on the usurper above them, as his blood stained hands began to clap very, very slowly. The derisive sound echoed off the walls and lingered in the ears of the listening humans. "Most admirable," he purred mockingly, his voice like silk. There was a dagger edge beneath it, and everyone in the hall knew. "Verily, most admirable indeed. Our eulogy was most notably touching." He stepped forward again and the crowd drew back, as if stung by his soft, chiding voice. "We haveth little liking for those who steal thrones, mortal. Or for those who slay the innocent. We haveth little liking at all…Mayhap We should see that thou comprehendeth this. And offer a teaching to the rest of thee, as well." The God-Emperor smiled again, and dropped his human guise. 

Rhun watched, feeling as though time had stopped around him, as Fou-Lu changed beyond his wildest dreams. He had always known the emperor was a dragon, but it was quite a different thing to see it physically proven.

The God-Emperor's mane of white hair was absorbed into his back and scalp, as if melting away into whatever skin it touched. His clothes did the same, but he was already changed into something that was no way human, and no delicate minded individual in the crowd suffered from that, at least. A shudder did pass through the crowd as the noise of bones snapping and stretching echoed sickeningly through the room and Fou-lu's joints visibly realigned themselves. His head became narrow and streamlined, without human feature, and his tail and wings torn their way out of his body with in an instant of each other. 

The dragon, magnificent and terrible, eyed the crowd, and the crowd stared back in terror. For a moment, the dragon's eyes locked on Rhun, and as they stared at each other, Rhun could swear the dragon smiled.

Then it launched itself into the air, looking as though would land on those unlucky enough to be in the front, but its wings swept down at the last moment, forcing one of the tallest there to duck. It skimmed over the crowd, and then as it reached the first step of the massive stair leading up to the throne, changed directions and flew directly up, turning its lithe body about again as it reached the high ceiling. Narrow gold eyes peered down at Saruk, who never had a chance to run.

It reminded Rhun of nothing more than a falcon stooping upon a mouse. The sudden, controlled descent, the pitiful attempt of the prey to escape… Blood splattered and ran into little puddles on the floor. It stained the dragon's blue and green scales, and its claws were bloody crimson. 

Then, slowly, the dragon faded and became Fou-Lu again, who sat back upon his throne, the mangled body of the usurper at his feet. He gazed down at the spooked crowd, and his voice filled the room and made his subjects tremble. "Out! Be gone!" he snapped, and the crowd broke and ran, scattering as they reached the exit. 

Only one man stayed behind. Rhun, nerves warring with the relief that Fou-Lu was alive, approached the dragon where he sat. The human was all the way up the steps and only a foot or two before the throne when Fou-Lu finally raised his head to look at him. He looked worse that Rhun could have imagined possible. Changing to his true form had apparently taken a great deal out of him. "Rhun," the dragon slurred, levering himself up from his throne to greet the human.

For a moment the general was startled by the informality of the greeting. Then he smiled, and replied, "Fou-Lu. I'm glad to see you're alive."

The dragon swayed where he stood and Rhun reached out a hand to steady him, surprised again when the dragon accepted his aid. "Rhun…I needs must ask thine aid." The admission was clearly not easy for the proud dragon to make and Rhun felt surprisingly touched at the trust it implied. 

"I understand, my friend," the general replied, careful not to make anything of the dragon's weakness, least he offend his friend. "Where did you wish to go?"

"Mine chambers," the dragon said, putting most of his weight on the supporting human as he spoke. Rhun was surprised at how little the God-Emperor weighed, and kept him upright without to much strain. "Rest…I…" The dragon interrupted himself with a fit of coughing, and Rhun was alarmed to see blood run from the emperor 's lips. "…I needs must rest," the dragon finished in a whisper, sagging in his friend's grip as he finished the words. 

It took Rhun a moment to realize that Fou-Lu was unconscious.


	28. Chapter 26 Pride Before a Fall

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Another update? Where do they keep coming from? It's crazy, I tell you! Crazy! 

Luna's Meow- Glad to know someone has! ^_^

Rainbowrose- Well, it wasn't really me. My sister found this roll of duck tape, and…

Luna's Meow- Hmm…Haven't I seen you before? You look familiar…*squints* …*grin* And yes, it should be… interesting. Bwahaha!

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Twenty Six

Pride Before a Fall

Sentience was slow to return to the dragon's unconscious body, awareness surfacing one moment only to vanish into dreams the next. All the while that his mind oscillated between wakefulness and sleep, steady hands were at work over him. A cool cloth soothed his brow at regular intervals and there was a murmur of voices and footsteps about him.

As he slowly regained control of his senses, he became aware of his aching body and the prevailing weakness that had overwhelmed him. Not since the last of the disastrous battles with the human Yom had he felt so feeble. 

One of the mortals attending him put pressure against one of his wounds and the Divine- Emperor moaned softly in protest. The offending individual withdrew, startled, and the other mortals seeing to his care did so as well. A hushed discussion was carried out over his head and the dragon's sensitive ears picked up the sound of footsteps leaving the room. Fou-Lu let himself slip back under for a moment, too tired to care what the mortals were up to as. It mattered little to him as long as they allowed him the rest he desperately needed.

Sometime later a pressing need roused him from his healing stupor. He opened his eyes with some difficulty and discovered a pounding headache lying in wait for him. The rest of his body took up the chorus and a paroxysm of agony threatened to drown him. Another small moan escaped his lips, and from the sudden silence around him he knew it had been heard and recognized. His own heart pounding unpleasantly in his ears, the dragon closed his eyes again and tried to block out swimming images of the ceiling.

Once again, the humans were speaking around him, their voices quiet not to disturb him. "Can't you give him something for the pain, doctor?" a familiar voice asked, and Fou-Lu attempted to distract himself from his suffering by trying to remember it. It was a deep voice, yet a gentle tone hid amid its gravely depth and softened its words

"We've tried, General," another voice replied patronizingly, the tone grating on Fou-Lu's nerves and prompting an almost instant dislike for the speaker. "But as I'm sure you've noticed, His Majesty isn't exactly human and none of the dosages we've been used to have been enough to affect him."

"You could then, perhaps, try a higher dosage, doctor?" the first responded, losing some of its softness. The speaker was clearly of the same mind as Fou-Lu where the human doctor was concerned. The tone jolted the dragon god's memory, and he realized that it was Rhun speaking to the other human.

Even with his eyes closed, Fou-Lu could practically see the disdainful look the doctor gave the general. "General, perhaps you don't understand. We have no way of knowing what dosage to give the emperor and an overdose could prove fatal with him already in his condition. Now, while you are in _my_ sickroom you will have to acknowledge that I know what I am doing and you do not. You, General, are trained to kill people. Allow _me_ to pick up the pieces."

Irritated at the human's insolence toward his friend, the emperor opened his eyes and strained to speak. "Cease thy babble, mortal," the dragon said, managing a voice somewhere between a rasp and a growl. The other aides who had attended him earlier had apparently left him to the doctor's tender care and it was thus only the doctor and general that jumped in surprise at his voice. Fou-Lu observed the doctor's surprised face with some satisfaction, then continued, "This full well may be thy sickroom, but thou shouldst bring to memory that this be _mine_ palace ere thou reproach the general such." The doctor flinched at his tone of voice and quickly excused himself from the room. Winded and sore from the effort of speaking, the dragon sagged back against his bedding and rested his eyes until some of pain receded.

He opened them again as he heard Rhun step softly to the edge of the bed. The human was smiling at him, obviously relieved to see him conscious. "Fou-Lu," the human greeted him warmly, taking a seat at the dragon's bedside. "The healers told me you would wake soon," he said, explaining his presence. 

The dragon blinked, then managed a slight smile toward the mortal. "I believeth this be the first time thou e'er hast spoken mine true name," he commented, though he was not particularly displeased with the development.

"The second, actually," the human corrected, adding, "You may not remember. You were near collapse the first time, if I recall."

"… Indeed, I mayeth recollect such," the dragon admitted after a moment of thought. He was glad that it had been Rhun who had been in the area when his strength gave way. As it stood, the general was one of the few people Fou-Lu would willingly trust with his care in such a condition.

"The doctors tell me you should be dead, Fou-Lu," Rhun told him more seriously, meeting and holding the dragon's golden eyes.

"I ken." He knew that all too well, and his agonized body was there to remind him should he forget. As fatigued as he had been, the knife wound he had taken to the chest could alone have put him out of commission. The wounds that he had taken afterwards had been a similar matter. Fou-Lu knew that at the present he was absolutely covered in deep burns. They had eaten through his skin like acid, stripping away layers that no human would have ever been able to regrow. His skin would recover and he would survive them, primarily because assuming his fully ascended form had prevented him from garnering worse. Even so, the outside of his body had taken damage enough, littered as it was with burns that faded from angry red to charred black. His internal injuries were of no less severity. The knife wound he had first taken had punched through and collapsed one of his lungs, an injury that would have suffocated any human in seconds. He lack of need to draw regular breath had saved his life both then and when the warehouse collapsed over his head. Trapped under the smoldering wreckage for over a day, the smoke would have choked him to death in a matter of minutes. As it was, the warehouse had still dealt him sever internall injury when it decided to crush him under its wreckage. From damaged organs to snapped ribs to the two-by-four that drove itself through his back, Fou-Lu had been luck to escape with his life. It had only been the strength of his anger at his attackers that had given him the energy to dig up to the surface, abandon his dragon form, and drag his shattered body back to the palace. 

Again, it had been that rage that gave him the strength to kill the usurper, and in doing so he had used up the last of his strength. Had he been thinking clearly, perhaps he could have ordered those assembled to seize Saruk for him to deal with later and thus have avoided driving himself into immediate collapse. Or perhaps not. He had no way of knowing how many of the assembled had been loyal to the usurper in the first place. It was no matter. What was done was done, and the dragon could at least take comfort in the fact that he had sent the humans away before his wounds caught up with him.  
"Would you like me to see if the doctors have something for you to eat or drink, my friend?" the general offered kindly as Fou-Lu stirred under the covers and looked vaguely uncomfortable. 

Fou-Lu murmured a negative, then added with some humiliation, "I haveth another…pressing need…and mine condition considered I ken not if I canst make mine way there unaided." To require help for such a thing stung the pride of the dragon-god and he dropped his gaze to look elsewhere. There was a fascinating spot on the wall behind Rhun and Fou-Lu eyed it with feigned interest.

General Rhun understood immediately, and opened his mouth to offer his aid when the door opened again and the doctor returned.

The man, apparently having overheard the conversation, said brightly, "Someone needs to use the little dragon's room, I hear," 

The dragon in question gave the human a look of such contempt and scorn that the doctor retreated back towards the door and stumbled over a low stool in his haste. 

Rhun, masking a chuckle, glanced down at his friend. "Of course you have my help, Fou-Lu. I believe the nearest lavatory is down the hall to the left." The human eased Fou-Lu up into sitting position and held him carefully as he trembled weakly at the pain that swept though him. 

He was naked except for the bandages that wound around most of his body. The dragon could only assume that the healers had removed his clothes to attend his wounds. The garments had survived the inferno only partially charred due to his switching shape at its start. Thus his clothes had returned to him when he resume human shape. Although, it might have been a more dramatic entrance if he _had_ stalked into his throne room utterly stark naked.

"Better now, my friend?" Rhun asked with concern as the dragon leaned heavily against him. 

Fou-Lu swallowed a mouthful of bile and replied shakily, "…A moment more, if thou wouldst…"

The doctor, regaining a measure of his courage, protested loudly at the situation, "Your Majesty, you can't attempt to leave your bed yet! You must remain abed until your healers are satisfied with your full recovery…!"

The god-emperor's eyes flashed dangerously at the proclamation and, using Rhun as a support, he swung his legs off the bed and stood. Rhun was there to hold him up as he swayed dizzily. The naked dragon, comfortable in nudity, briefly registered the general helping him into a loose silk robe. Then the dragon clung to his human friend as he dared a step forward, still ignoring the protests of the human doctor. 

"Your Majesty! You're going to hurt yourself!" the mortal protested loudly, looking absolutely shocked at the turn of events, then turning a glare to Rhun. "Why are you helping him?!"  
Arm around the dragon's back, the general shrugged. "Because he'll do it even if I wasn't, doctor." As the other human spluttered, Rhun added wryly, "You'll find there's very little one can make the emperor do if he doesn't wish it. He's stubborn like that."

The doctor could do nothing but watch aghast as his patient left the room and the door was pointedly shut the door behind him.

True to his word, Rhun helped the infirm dragon down the hall and helped him stay upright as he relieved the pressure in his bladder. Then Fou-Lu made his way slowly back to the sickroom, running out of energy about halfway there and nearly collapsing all over again. Rhun caught him before he could fall, and insisted rather forcefully on carrying the sulking dragon the rest of the way back.

The doctor had apparently given up on his rebellious patient and was not in the sickroom. The emperor couldn't help but be relieved at that, for he had hardly wanted to look the fool between some stupid, lowly human. Particularly the one in question.

Rhun set his passenger back down on the mattress and helped Fou-Lu out of the robe when he insisted upon it. Then the general pulled the blankets up under the dragon's chin and glanced down at his humiliated friend. "I'll leave you to your rest, my friend," the mortal said, departing the room before the dragon had a chance to argue. Still fuming slightly, Fou-Lu glowered at the door until sleep overcame his strained body.


	29. Chapter 27 What Fools These Mortals Be

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Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Twenty Seven

What Fools These Mortals Be

"You called, Your Majesty?" Rhun asked, raising an eyebrow at the dragon as he closed the sickroom door behind him. The emperor offered a glance that made the human grin as he walked to sit again at the dragon-god's bedside. "All right, Fou-Lu. How may I help you?" 

Fou-Lu eyed the cheerful human, feeling somewhat better than he had when Rhun had seen him earlier that day. He had slept since that time, letting unconsciousness numb the pain that his wounds forced him to endure. But now the dragon was awake and it was boredom that drove him to call for Rhun's presence. In truth, he also had genuine need to speak with the general about matters, particularly the ones that had put him in this sickroom to start with. "I wouldst thee bespeaken of what thou ken of these recent eventualities."

"What I know of Saruk, you mean?" the human asked, losing some of his smile at the serious topic. "Prior to this, I had very little to do with him, although I knew his family." His tone implied he hadn't particularly wanted to have anything to do with the family in the first place. 

"His family…," the dragon mused, shifting uncomfortably as one of his muscles spasmed and pulled on one of his wounds, "They wouldst be behind him in this venture?" The likelihood of the usurper pulling off his highly organized scheme alone was small, and the backing of a noble house would certainly explain the resources he had spent in the process.

"I imagine it is likely," the general said slowly, shrugging as he added, "As I said, I know the family, and they're all a fairly despicable lot." A moment passed before he admitted, "I took the liberty of ordering the surviving family members arrested until this mess can be sorted out."  
Relieved he wouldn't personally have to hunt the traitors down, the dragon murmured, "Thank thee, mine friend. That maketh one less concern I needs must think on." 

The human nodded, apparently relieved that the emperor approved of the action, then ventured carefully, "If I may ask, Fou-Lu, how exactly did Saruk manage to put you in this condition?" 

Fou-Lu hesitated; his pride still stung at being outmaneuvered by a human. At last he begin stiffly, "…He did sendeth one of his poisoner to attend to mine slaughter me, but I didst descry the wretch and drag the situation of his contact from his specter. I didst see little other option but to seek his master mineself, for the poisoning grew daily with nary another trace of the perpetrators. I see now that 'twas but a trap, but the events prior had worn great upon me and I thought most unclearly at that hour. Upon arrival…one who appeared as the brother of this Saruk didth assail me and flee into a near building." The dragon, still little better than before, coughed and cleared his throat before continuing with some strain, "Mine ire great, I madeth pursuit. The building …'twas stacked with flammables and soaked in oil. The traitors entrapped me within with the brother of Saruk and lit the edifice. I didst taketh mine dragon form thus that I wouldst not be as susceptible to the dread flame and 'twas thus I survived the conflagration. Yet, the walls had been weakened by the traitors and the building and the two adjacent collapsed upon me and dideth entomb me alive." Voice seeming to grow hoarser as he spoke, Fou-Lu finished raspily, "'Twas then a day ere I couldst claw mineself free and maketh mine way to mine throne room." 

As Fou-Lu attempted to catch his breath, the human commented, "Impressive. He planned well, one must admit." As he finished the statement, Rhun offered Fou-Lu a glass of water someone had left by the bed and helped the dragon raise his head enough to swallow.

"Aye," the divine emperor agreed after the cup was withdrawn from his lips. "And that one ensured I would be in little condition to defend myself by arranging the poisonings, as well."

Rhun shook his head in disgust at the new information, setting the water glass aside as he did so. "I'm somehow not surprised. His family have always condoned ruthlessness to get their ways."

Fou-Lu sighed and the room was silent for several minutes. At last, Fou-Lu voiced a weary question to his friend, though he expected no real answer. "…Why, Rhun? What be the motive of mortals to act in such a fashion? What driveth them to this… madness?" Fou-Lu had never really understood humans and his naivete toward them often troubled him. They confused and bewildered him, even as he did the same to them. Humans…they betrayed those they should follow and yet could hold loyalty even when it had grown pointless and foolish.

The general looked to genuinely consider the question, answering seriously, "Power, most likely, Majesty. I'm afraid there plenty who would kill you for the sake of the throne, had they the ability to do so. Others gained advantage from the war or the policies you put a stop to and would see you disposed of for that reason. The fact that you have discontinued the war has probably caused the most anger toward you." He quickly added, as he noticed the emperor's rapidly deteriorating mood, "Fortunately, most of the dissatisfied are too afraid of you to make a move, my friend." 

The dragon did not look reassured in the least. Suddenly feeling the pointlessness of his situation, the Endless murmured, "…Power and riches, and for this to seek the death of such as I and to pitilessly poison hundreds in the process…what fools these mortals be…" Sometimes he wondered at the point of it all. Perhaps, once Yahla had returned to him again, they could flee this mortal confusion, and spend the eternity peacefully together with each other…and their offspring.

Attempting to bring Fou-Lu out of his depression, the general interrupted the emperor's flow of thoughts. "I have wondered about Saruk's motive, though, my friend. I am beginning to think that there was more to it than a bid for the throne or attempts to restart war."

Raising his line of sight to include the human, the dragon asked with some curiosity, "What be thy suspicions, then?"

Suddenly uncertain whether or not to continue in the conversation, least Fou-Lu become even more depressed, the general at last admitted, "…Saruk recently lost a brother. I believe his name was Rasso…if I recall correctly, you ordered him killed when you reorganized the military." He watched the emperor's reaction with concern, suddenly worried he'd simply made things worse than they had been.

The dragon-god's golden eyes widened behind the fringe of his bangs. "Thou art saying…" He paused, eyes locked with Rhun's, "Thou meaneth that for _that_ disposal of a corrupt, murdering official, hundreds innocent of crime perished?! For vengeance, for the pride of a noble family the deaths of my people?! _Why_?! Why be humans such…?!" He broke off abruptly, visibly shaking.

"…Fou-Lu…?" Rhun ventured anxiously as the angry spark in the dragon's aureate eyes faded and died. The dull despair that replaced it alarmed the general to no end. He had to lean close to the injured dragon to hear his next words.

"Sometimes…I dost wonder…what point be there to mine effort?" the dragon mused listlessly, his eyes unfocused and his expression blank. The dragon's white knuckled hands clutched at the bed sheets as he continued, "I dost serve this Empire, makest sacrifice of mine time and peace of mind to protect those who liveth upon this sphere. And as I dost labor to please them, I canst but know I ne'er will please them all. Why persist this futile attempt to fulfil the purpose I was summoned for? And yet… I continue…and yet full many of those who I labor so for deserveth not e'en to draw breath…!" 

"Fou-Lu!" the general exclaimed, attempting to break the dragon out of his depressed and increasingly disturbing thoughts. 

He succeeded, to a point. The dulled eyes refocused on his face, pale hands relaxed their hold on the bedding, and the dragon-god murmured contritely, "Forgive me, mine friend. I ramblest. Pay no heed to I." He turned his face from his friend and stared with desolate eyes at the wall nearest him.

"…Fou-Lu." The man rested his hand gently on the Endless' shoulder and Fou-Lu, at once overwhelmed with his own despair, accepted the unspoken comfort his friend offered. 

Something wet ran down the side of his face, and the dragon cried.


	30. Chapter 28 Two Steps Back

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Crimson Primrose- Glad to see you're still reading my fic! I was worried the twelve month lull would destroy my loyal fan base, but it appears it is not so! *Lol* And yes, I'll be keeping it up. I hope to finish the story before summer ends. Then you guys can start bugging me about sequels XD

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Lord Snowl- Thank you! Glad you enjoyed it! …and you didn't notice it was AU? *grin* Well, while I do like my version of events better… 

Rainbowrose- Okay, she didn't actually duct tape me to the computer. But she did duct tape me to the phone once. Although that's another story entirely. 

Luna's Meow- Yes, Fou-Lu and I get along well. It must be that overwhelming sense of hubris we share… ^_^

****

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Twenty Eight

Two Steps Back

Her head was pounding violently as she regained consciousness and opened her eyes. The sun overhead was bright and as it rebounded from every available surface the air itself seemed to glow. She closed her eyes with a surge of nausea, briefly aware that some kind soul had placed her in the only shaded spot for miles around. 

Her stirring had gone unnoticed, and after a few more moments of lying with her wings pressed into the warm sand, she dared sit up and take account of her surrounding. Straightening up, she nearly struck her head against the impromptu lean-to that had been assembled to shade her. On closer inspection, the two pieces of twisted wreckage that had been propped together had clearly come from a sandflier of some sort. One hand clutching the edge of one of the slabs, she managed to keep her balance as she stood and moved out into the light of the sun.

After the spots stopped dancing behind her eyes, she could see again the expanse of desert around her. The unremarkable scenery of sand and sky was interrupted by a heap of blistered scrap metal and charred ashes. It was half buried in the sand several meters away and the winds that whipped dust up into a frenzy had already begun scattering the soot over the desert landscape. The scattering movement of the air had left a fine patina of black over the sounding area. It thoroughly coated the few pieces of scrap that had broken off the main body of the craft when it had hit the ground and bounced.

A clatter from the area behind her turned the dragon about, suddenly alert to possible danger. There was another crash site there, although the remains were significantly more recognizable. Two sandfliers were interlocked on the desert floor, the prow of one driven entirely through the hull of the second. The second sandfliers had collapsed in on itself, and parts of its stern had snapped clean off. The actual engine of the ship was nowhere to be seen and presumably had torn off during the crash. The first ship, her former vessel, had survived no better than its opponents. Most of the ship had been consumed in the violent explosion of its engine. Only the skeletal metal frame of the ship had survived the blast.

At the site of the crash, Darnik kicked a piece of rubble away from him with a loud and inventive oath. His curses grew even more inventive as the windian hopped back and clutched at his stubbed toes. Putting his weight back on his bruised extremity, the windian threw a glare over his shoulder at the remains of their aircraft. Yahla presumed he had been attempting to salvage something from the wreck, a clearly lost cause to start with. 

He glanced back around as Yahla walked to join him, her feet raising dust to join the choking haze of smoke in the air. The mortal grinned at the sight of her, momentarily forgetting the offending junk heap. "Hey, Your Divinity! It's about time you decided to wake up and smell the coffee! Do you always take this much shut-eye, or did you feel you had some catching up to do?" 

Fairly used to Darnik's odd exclamations by this point, Yahla did no more than eye him oddly as she asked, "For what stretch of time hath I been heavy with sleep?" 

"A couple of days, and I must say I'm glad you've finally finished your forty-eight hour nap." The human motioned cynically at the remains of their ship as he leaned against one of the skeletal 'ribs' of the downed sandflier. "Because _damn_ if I know what the hell we should do now." The dragoness remained silent, dismayed by the turn of events, and Darnik added more seriously, "I thought you'd kicked the bucket when you hit your head on the dash and keeled over." As she had brought the ship around to ram the other sandflier, the jolt of impact and her awkward sense of balance had resulted in the loss of her footing. Her face had made intimate acquaintance with the ship's controls and she had been deprived the chance to see the demise of her opponent.

Surprisingly touched by the simple concern evident in his voice, Yahla murmured, "Thank thee, Darnik." Though the human was often annoying and their arguments occasionally escalated into mild violence, the windian had become a friend. He was loyal to her in his own way, and she had the feeling he would lay his life down to protect her, should the need arise. On her part, the windian reminded her of a puppy, which one could never remain angry with for long, no matter how many times it stained your floor. She was admittedly fond of him, and his quirky sense of humor more amused her than irritated her as she grew accustomed to it.

"It's just that corpses get to smelling pretty damn strong pretty damn quick in these parts." He barely dodged her fist, grinning at her vexed look. "Nah, I'm just glad I managed to drag you out of the wreck before the engine blew you to deep-fried dragon bits." 

"And thou hast mine thanks," The dragoness said firmly, returning her gaze to the wreck of their transportation. Walking the length the Alliance truly did not appeal to her, and she asked, "So. What presently?" Though she had hoped her companion would perhaps have an answer to their dilemma, she was not surprised by his equivocal response.

"I kind of hoped you'd have an idea about that," the human admitted ruefully, rubbing his chin contemplatively. He hadn't shaved in several days, but young as he was, he had only developed a minor case of peach fuzz.

Twirling a lock of hair absently between her fingers, Yahla nodded unhappily. "I wouldst continue, but with our vehicle riven from us and the aggregate of our supplies lorn…"

Reflexively, she caught the bundle Darnik tossed her, her claws biting deep into the weave the canvas bag in question. It was a relatively light load, and Yahla shifted the weight to side as she raised an eyebrow at Darnik. "Not all our supplies," he elucidated casually, hefting another such bundle under one arm. "I managed to toss a couple of our waterskins overboard before the engine blew. We might not have any food, but we've got enough water to last for a while, if we ration it. By the time we run out we should be able to make it to a town." But the goddess shook her head and he frowned. "What?"

"We shouldeth give wide berth to the towns," Yahla informed him, not quite as unhappy as before. Water was more essential under these conditions than food. A month or more she could last without food, but were she to travel without any water at all, she would be considered lucky to last a week. 

His brow furrowed as he asked, "Why?" 

"Why shun such places?" she responded, holding the human's gaze as she spoke. "Giveth thought to our exigency, Darnik. By what means cameth we here? These pursuers, why dideth they offer us threat?"

"They could be bandits," he offered rather belatedly, shifting uncomfortably under her piercing gaze."

"Nay," the goddess rebuked grimly. She crossed her arms under her breast as she watched Darnik squirm. "A military sandflier be an expense no common lout couldst afford."

Darnik looked puzzled a moment before he realized her line of thought. "Yeah, only someone with a lot of power could afford both of those sandfliers. But…that means…the people here…they know who you are…! They're trying to nab you!"

She nodded, pleased that the windian had finally understood the problem. "That be mine fear. Whether they attepteth to seize me for ransom or for other needs, I ken not. Nor ken I who doth order these attempts or by what means they found mine identity."

"Well, the desert was grounds for most of the recent battles in the war…so I imagine there's a lot of pent up feeling toward the Empire here. But if they know who you really are…None of the smaller nations around here would dare to piss off the Empire on their own, and most of them also can't afford to commission fully armed, military vehicles." The windian shrugged expressively, his face betraying his inability to do anything about the situation. "As for figuring out your identity…you _are_ pretty out of the ordinary, Yahla. And I happen to know quite a few of the nations in the Alliance have spies in Windia. They'd definitely have noticed you dropping in for tea, so to speak."

Yahla shook her head, long hair fanning out behind her as the wind seized it and protracted the motion. "Regardless, we canst nay tarry here. 'Til the night, let us take our rest, then venture to continue upon our journey." Her tone of finality signaled an end to the conversation. Turning away, Yahla ignored Darnik's mocking salute and retreated back to her patch of shade. 


	31. Chapter 29 Dancing of Multicolored Fish

****

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Twenty Nine

Dancing of Multicolored Fish

General Rhun, on a leisurely walk around the castle defenses, was surprised to be flagged down by a harried looking servant. In Fou-Lu's incapacitated state, the emperor had assigned Rhun to run things, much to the malcontent of numerous noble families. When the general stopped to hear the nondescript man's message, he was further startled to hear the messenger exclaim, "General, we've lost the emperor!"

Finding their conversation suddenly the center of attention of the group of soldiers the general had been inspecting, Rhun took the servant aside. "What do you mean, you lost the emperor?" he demanded sternly, suddenly feeling his stress level rise. 

The other human gulped, replying nervously, "Well…The doctor and his staff went… to check on His Majesty this morning. And…the doctor told me to find you, General!" 

"The doctor thought I would know something about this, then?" Rhun asked, irritated. He and the man in question had clashed often enough in the past few days that the general wanted as little to do with the other as possible.  
"I…sir…" the messenger faltered, his verbal skills rapidly abandoning him.   
Ignoring the stuttering messenger, Rhun made his way quickly to the sickroom that his friend had recently inhabited. The doctor and one of the castle personnel were arguing loudly outside the door. Upon seeing Rhun, the doctor abandoned his current conversation and turned upon him. "You! What do you know of this, general!?" he demanded angrily, his tone immediately rubbing Rhun the wrong way.

"I assure you, nothing," the general snapped, glaring down at the shorter male. "Fou-Lu hardly informs me of his every move. He left of his own power?" While Rhun doubted anyone would be able to kidnap the dragon, his subconscious planted the worry in his mind and left it to fester until more evidence of the emperor could be uncovered. 

"Yes, damn it!" the doctor exclaimed noisily, "There is no sign of anyone _else_ having entered, and there were guards on the door! How he even managed this I don't know! I _told_ him, he is not to leave this room, or even to stand! His injuries are too dire to make light of!" 

Rhun carelessly interrupted the doctor's rant, a headache starting to form at his temples as a result of the other man, "No doubt he has merely holed himself up somewhere he finds more comfortable." 

"General, would you _please_ take this _seriously_!?" the doctor yelled, his voice jumping up an octave. The shrill noise echoed off the surrounding walls and made Rhun wince and put a hand to his head.

Both ears ringing in the aftermath, the general conceded grudgingly, "And what would you have me do?"

His hands waving dramatically, the physician expounded noisily, "Send out search parties! _Find_ him! He shouldn't be active yet! He shouldn't even be able to walk! And he didn't even bring any _clothes_ with him!"

"Fine, but if you would, I'd like to see the room." Curious, the general couldn't help but attempt to see if he could figure out how his clever friend escaped without alerting his nursemaids. Whether or not the tales of gods being able to spirit themselves about with a though were true, Rhun doubted the divine emperor was capable of doing much more than crawl at the moment. 

The general pushed past the doctor and stepped into the open door, his eyes briefly surveying the scene. He noticed after a moment that one of the tapestries on the hung vaguely different from its prior position. Easing the decorative cloth aside, Rhun revealed… a perfectly ordinary wall. Although…The stones of the room held a fine layer dust, but there was one stone behind the wall hanging that appeared the exception. The dust from that stone was gone, as if a sudden movement had displaced it. Rhun leaned in and pressed it, gathering no reaction. It was only when he pulled on the cemented stone that the wall groaned and swung inwards on perfectly hidden hinges. 

"Well," Rhun commented cheerfully, pleased at his own success. "We know how he got out." Seeing the doctor's open-mouthed gape, Rhun chided, "Now, now, doctor. He _did_ build the entire palace, after all. I imagine he can get out of just about any place we put him. …I'm sure his escape doesn't reflect on your abilities at all."

Another servant passed through the gardens, calling out futilely, "Majesty? My Lord?" His footsteps sounded heavily as he crossed the small bridge and headed to search another section of the castle. 

Those footsteps disturbed the colorful fish that swam peacefully under the surface of the water and sent them darting to the far side of the stream. Another form stirred and buried itself deeper among the decorative water plants lining one of the deeper pools. Effectively hidden from anyone on the surface, the dragon rolled over in the water and drifted back to sleep. The water-aligned god was perfectly comfortable in the depths and here he was also saved from the annoying attention of his subjects. The cool water soothed his wounds and accelerated his healing. Much as Yahla could draw strength from the life forces of other creatures, he gained strength from his own element. The pain that was his constant companion on land was reduced to a mere shadow in the water. Infirm as he was, it would still be weeks before he was entirely recovered, but that was better than the months he would spend under the care of the human doctors. Now, if the humans would only allow him time to rest and heal his battered body…

His keen ears picked up vibrations in the water that translated into the footsteps of numerous humans and the murmur of their voices. Unconcerned with discovery, Fou-Lu did not bother moving until a deep voice, muffled by the water, reached his ears. "Alright, my friend. I know you're somewhere down there." He knew that voice, and turn his head to look up at the silhouettes of the water lilies overhead. "Fou-Lu? I don't swim that well. Would you mind coming up here instead of the other way around?" 

_Rhun_…The dragon-god reminded himself that there were sacrifices to make in the sake of friendship and surfaced reluctantly. Framed by water plants, the humans could see only his head and shoulders. He took a leisurely moment to remove a decorative lily from his hair before shamelessly granting the humans on the bank a look that dared them to make anything of it. His indifferent gaze eventually passed over the rest of the astonished humans and settled on Rhun, who was obviously amused.

"A good day to you, my friend," the general said, bowing from the waist. "Decided to take up skinny-dipping, have you?" Not understanding his friend's question, the dragon settled on his usual routine of looking too important to answer such a lowly question. Rhun chuckled as Fou-Lu tossed his wet hair back from his face and looked down his nose at the assembled mortals. 

Before the two friends could continue their conversation, the doctor, who had accompanied Rhun, interrupted. "You Majesty! You…You simply _must_ return to your room, Majesty! You aren't well enough to be out of bed!" The dragon's eyes narrowed dangerously and he sank down in the pool till the water lapped at his chin. _By what stupidity dare he order me thus? No mere mortal doth decide mine path!_ The human continued, oblivious to the emperor's mounting displeasure. "And the _water_! My Lord, you aren't supposed to get your wounds wet! They won't heal underwater, they're supposed to be kept dry at all times! Come out of there now, let us dry you off and carry you back to your room!" By this point Fou-Lu was truly wroth. The arrogance of this mortal combined with the threat of being ousted from his comfortable refuge blinded considerations of tactful resolutions.

The doctor reached down to help the dragon from the water and fell back with a cry of pain, clutching his bloody hand. Fou-Lu, swimming farther from the bank, spat a mouthful of blood into the water and hissed at the human. Several of the other servants caught the doctor as he glanced down at the revealed bone of his own hand and fainted.

"That really wasn't very nice, Your Majesty," Rhun commented dryly. The dragon growled at him and submerged, dropping rapidly out of sight. Through his rage and exhaustion he knew he was acting unreasonably, but he had, at some point, stopped caring.

Rhun glanced back at the other palace inhabitants who had followed him on his search for Fou-Lu. His gaze lingered a moment on the unconscious doctor before he told them, "You can return to your duties. I'll see if I can't speak to the emperor." He expected the proud immortal would refuse to speak with him unless he disposed of his companions.

One of the attendants trying to tend to the unconscious doctor looked up at him and stated timorously, "But, General Rhun…the emperor, may he be revered forever, clearly isn't…in his right mind…Are you sure you want to…" he trailed off, glancing back at the others for reassurance.

Rhun shook his head. "True, were he not…in the state he is, I doubt he would be biting people. He," the general said, nodding to the prone doctor, "Would be without use of his head, not his hand." The memory of Soenil's decapitation rose in his mind, along with the fates of some of the more corrupt officials in the military.

The attendant paled, and after a whispered conference with his fellows, departed the garden, the physician carried with them. After they had left, Rhun knelt by the water's edge and tried to spot the dragon in the depths. But everything was still and the plants obscured Rhun's gaze. "Fou-Lu?" the general murmured, not expecting a response. Still, when a pale face peered up at him he couldn't help but smile.

After a moment, the Endless asked quietly, "By what means didst thou know I wouldst come hither?" Rhun, still examining his friend's wan face, couldn't help but notice Fou-Lu's voice seemed stronger than it had been when he had last spoke with the emperor. 

"I guessed," the human admitted, resting his weight on his knees, "What I know of dragons is little indeed, but I seemed to recall you were of a water alignment. I know that makes you weak to fire, and thought possibly that water would strengthen you. I also knew you couldn't stand the sickroom, and expected you to seek out somewhere more comfortable. And as the gardens contain the only waterway in the palace…"

"Thou sought me here," the dragon finished with a look of approval. "Perceptive, Rhun. Though…I wouldst thou hadst been unaccompanied." Fou-Lu's expression soured slightly.

"I didn't exactly invite them along," the human said dryly, taking a more comfortable seated position as he spoke, "As I'm sure you've noticed, that doctor isn't particularly easy to get rid of." The comment surprised a chuckle out of the emperor, which pleased Rhun immensely. The last few days since Fou-Lu's emotional breakdown had seen little improvement in the dragon's mood, and Rhun was heartened to see his friend's spirits lifted. 

"Aye, one near must send him onward with the tip of a sword," the dragon agreed blithely, making the general wonder whether it was the return to his proper element that had given him heart or the opportunity to chomp the arrogant bastard. The latter had certainly made _the general's_ day.

"Or the tips of your teeth, in this case," the general said wryly, provoking a smirk from the god-emperor. 

"I be sure that there existeth numerous sharp implements that wouldeth have the intended impression on the man," the dragon allowed, smiling toothily at the thought. 

"How long do you intend to stay in there?" Rhun asked at last, dispersing some of Fou-Lu's good mood. The human hated to disrupt the his cheer, but as Rhun had been left in charge of the Empire while Fou-Lu recovered, he felt he needed to know Fou-Lu's plans.

"Till mine bones hath knit and mine wounds mend themselves," the dragon replied firmly, leaving no room for argument, "I heal with great speed here, in mine element. And…the pain be not so great."

Rhun nodded, understanding the question in Fou-Lu's eyes. "I'll try to see that they leave you alone, then. Though I'm afraid some will insist on checking on you. Do you need us to bring you food, or did you intend to eat the decorative fish?" The latter thought brought a smile to the mortal's lips and made the immortal sniff disdainfully.

"_Thou_ mayest visit, if thou dost wish," the emperor asserted, his voice indicating what he thought of the rest of the court, "The remainder of mine subjects would do well to leaveth me to mine rest, for 'tis rest that I needs must have most desperately and not food nor drink. Mine element will sustain me."

"Very well, then, my friend." Rhun stood slowly, reminded by aching joints that he wasn't as young as he used to be, and bowed slightly to the emperor. "Sleep well, Fou-Lu." He turned and departed the garden, his soft footsteps masked in the sound of running water.

The dragon sighed and slipped back under the surface of the water, only a ripple marking where he had been a moment earlier. In a moment the ripple stilled, and the only movement was of the running stream and the dancing of multicolored fish.


	32. Chapter 30 Reverse Situations

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Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Thirty

Reverse Situations

"I refuse to accept the decision of a baseborn fool!" the nobleman shouted angrily, his wife on his arm, attempting to calm him. Her exertions failed, and her husband's face grew steadily more purple. "How _dare_ a lowly plebian believe he could pass judgement on the affairs of his betters!?" The other nobleman agreed noisily and Rhun could only trail the group of nobles and attendants helplessly as they sought higher counsel.

They found the Emperor lazing against the bank of the stream, apathetically fending off a bevy of servants who had disturbed his rest. One was trying rather franticly to convince the dragon to eat, meeting with no success at all. The dragon's head turned minutely as the noblemen and their entourage entered, Rhun at their heels. As he had abandoned his patch of water growth for the moment, there was nothing to conceal the fact that the Endless wasn't wearing a strip. The group stopped short of the water, and Rhun was entertained to see their scandalized expressions. His amusement grew as he noticed that the first nobleman's wife bore less an expression of affront and more one of genuine interest. _You don't stand a chance, lady._

One of the servants bothering the ruler took the chance to hold an elaborate silk robe out to the emperor. "Your Esteemed Majesty, would you _please_ put something on?" The dragon favored the garment with a contemptuous glance, and Rhun couldn't help but agree with him. The expensive silk would be ruined instantly in water, regardless. 

Fou-Lu was looking much better than he had a week ago, the burns faded to mild red and the open wounds slowly beginning to close. The internal wounds would take longer to heal and it would be a while before the dragon's energy was restored.

The general stepped to the fore the group and bowed to his friend. "Your Majesty, our apologies for the interruption, but I'm afraid these two men have insisted upon seeking your counsel." He added pointedly, "In spite of my own advice."

The first nobleman recovered his composure and stepped forward, dragging his wife with him. "Surely, Your Majesty, you can't expect a lowly subordinate to resolve the issues of the gently bred. While one such as _yourself_ would certainly understand the delicacy of such matters."

The dragon eyed the human with disgust, glancing back over at Rhun with a question in his eyes. Rhun responded, tone making clear his exasperation, "The _gentlemen_ here are disputing their claims to the property of the late usurper and his family. They both are distant cousins of the family and, legally, have equal right to the assets." 

"And what was thy resolution?" Fou-Lu asked impassively.

"To split the property equally between them. As you can see, the concept did not appeal to them." One of the noblemen bristled at his wry tone. Rhun ignored him.

"Your Imperial Majesty," the other noble began smoothly, clearly jockeying for favor, "All my peer and I desire is that you would deign to bestow your endless wisdom to our case. We will bow to your words as if they were the words of the gods themselves."

"They _art_, mortal," the dragon said dryly, unimpressed by the human's embellishments. His eyes glittered maliciously, and the immortal tossed another question to Rhun. "They hath refused thy judgement?"

"Oh, yes," Rhun agreed, recalling the fit both nobles had thrown upon hearing his resolution.

"So." The emperor's golden eyes turned to regard the two nobles. They shifted uncertainly under his steady gaze, and the dragon continued, "Thy claims be equal, yet thou wouldst nay see these possessions divided between thee." He nodded slowly. "Very well. Rhun?"

"Yes, My Lord?" the mortal said, fully expecting the immortal to put the two in their places.

The dragon waved a bored hand in the direction of the bank. "Seize this land in mine name and return it to the control of the government. No doubt there be need of orphanages or some such public work to be built."

It was unfortunate that the two men had been smart enough not to argue with the emperor, Rhun mused, but their expressions upon the proclamation had been entertaining enough.

As the noblemen departed, the robe-bearing servant again attempted to foist his burden on the naked male. The attempt was met with curt orders to leave, and at last Rhun and Fou-Lu were the only ones in the garden.

Fou-Lu sighed, clearly irritated. "For what reason must mortals possess such a surplus of taboos?" he complained to his human friend, "Their shock at the exposure of the body beginneth to grate upon mine nerves." 

Rhun chuckled. "I doubt you'll have much luck in convincing them to overcome that particular interdiction."

"It doth seem no matter to _thee_," the dragon said bluntly. "Why this?"

The explanation was simple, and it had the added benefit of making the emperor smile. "I'm a soldier, Fou-Lu. We tend to get over that taboo after living months in close quarters with a barrack of other men." 

The sandflier, commandeered from the reluctant inhabitants of Shyde, ground to a halt in the sand, two more parking to either side of it. A slight figure jumped from the side of the first sandflier to inspect the wreckage. Others followed, spreading out over the scene. 

Captain Ursula stared at the remains of the three sandfliers with a sinking feeling in her stomach. If one of those ships was the one that had carried her quarry…How was she going to explain this to the emperor? Any remains would have been burnt up instantly, so she could hardly return with the body…

"Captain!" one of the men called, gesturing to the sand before him. There were footsteps in the sand behind one of the wrecks, which had sheltered them from the wind.

A more detailed search of the area turned up more footprints and a lean-to with the imprint of a body beneith it. A handful of silver hairs at last confirmed the identity of the survivor, and Ursula, with a lightened heart, ordered her men back on the path. 

Water dribbled between her lips, running down her parched throat and clearing the sand and dust from her mouth. The last drop slithered out of the canteen and clung to her lower lip, momentarily absorbed into the chapped skin. 

Yahla lowered the waterskin, dismayed at the empty container. Of the three containers of water they had retained, Darnik had insisted that she take two for herself and that she drink more extensively than he. She had needed the water more than he as her pregnancy advanced and drew more on her reserves. Now, the second canteen was gone, and she knew well that Darnik had to be running as low as she. 

It had been eleven days and they had managed to cover ground at a decent pace. Through the cool hours of the day, they walked. As the days wore on and their conditions worsened, their pace slowed. Still, they had covered over two hundred miles.

Hunger had been appeased by eating cacti and small desert birds Yahla caught barehanded. The watery juice of the former had provided supplement to their liquid supplies, while the raw meat and blood of the later had supplied them with protein and energy. It had taken Yahla some effort to convince Darnik eat either cactus or bird, for the city-bred human had doubted the plant's edibility, even after the needles were removed. And he was squeamish toward eating raw flesh and concerned about the possibility of disease. Yahla, seeing little option but starvation, chose to take that risk. Without means to make a fire and with hunger gnawing at his stomach, the human had eventually given in and accepted the unpleasant food source. Still, both bird and cactus were in scant supply on the rocky and dry terrain and each traveler grew steadily gaunter. If they didn't reach a settlement of some kind soon, where they could restock and regain their bearings, they would likely collapse from the combined stress of hunger, thirst and exhaustion. At this point, Yahla was willing to risk the danger of pursuers, for the desert had grown to pose a greater threat.


	33. Chapter 31 Death's Caravan

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IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ:_ My parents, in their infinite wisdom, have decided to drag our family on a road trip next week. Due to this, this will be the last chapter until I get back. I'll be able to write while I'm gone, I just won't be able to upload it. I'm very sorry, as this is a terrible place to leave off. Unfortunately, I haven't got much choice in the matter._

Anyhow, here's the next chapter.

rainbowrose- This chapter ought to answer your questions about that, at least. ^_^ 

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Thirty One

Death's Caravan

The twelfth day was the first to interrupt the pattern of walking by night and sleeping by day that Yahla and Darnik had established. The rising sun washed the horizon with its rosy glow as Yahla tensed and Darnik peered into the distance, trying to see what had alarmed his companion. Nothing presented itself to his curious eyes, and he asked her, "What is it?" He had learned to trust her senses early on and relied on them extensively as his ill health brought about the waning of his own.

She motioned briefly to the top of a dune that stood framed against the sky. Such hills were not uncommon in the desert, though they were hell to trek over. "Soldiers…They ken that we art here." 

Darnik felt his throat tighten apprehensively. Her ability to sense the life forms around them had saved his life in the past, but he couldn't help but ask, "Are you sure?" At her nod, he continued in disbelief, "How did they get all the way out here?" The inhospitable terrain was brutal…Darnik couldn't imagine anyone managing to convince a troop of armed men to march out here without sandfliers. If anyone had ever offered _him_ the choice, he'd have laughed in their face and gone home.

The dragoness shrugged, her eyes and ears still trained on the adjacent hill. Besides a wisp of sand the wind displaced and ushered down the slope, all was still. "Doubtless there be a settlement near…They come hither, prepare thyself!" 

_Oh, shit. _Darnik clutched his spear as the force crested the hill and presented themselves to his eyes. Thoughts of fleeing the approaching troupe vanished as he realized how close they were and that after over a week of hunger and thirst, neither he nor Yahla would make it far. As over a score of armed men spread out to surround them, Darnik recognized the military uniform of Ludia. He hadn't seen it very often in his lifetime, but the well-rested men facing them unmistakably bore it.

Their sword and spears glittering in the early morning light, the Ludians parted ranks to allow their leader to step to the fore. The windrunner's jowls hanging low as he spoke, the soldier growled, "Step aside, Windian. The imperial is none of your concern." 

The proclamation was unwelcome. Darnik bristled and brandished his spear defensively. "Yeah, right. You'll have to come through me, assholes," the windian snarled back, stepping protectively in front of the dragoness. He was briefly thankful her pride hadn't driven her to push him aside and refuse his offer of cover, meager though it was.

The Ludian nodded to four of his men, who broke away from the others in crisp formation. Darnik found himself engaged on three sides, the fourth human stepping easily past the occupied warrior. Forced on the defensive by the unusually well-trained foe, he managed to parry two of the immediate attacks but a nasty swipe from his left gouged between one brassard and his cuirass. Blood seeping from the joint of his shoulder, Darnik had no time for attack before he was forced to block another blow, this time from his center attacker. The soldier's sword skittered off his metal armor, and the windian was glad he had kept the heavy and hot stuff, even in the desert conditions. 

The fourth human, who stepped up to her side with naked sword, blocked Yahla from aiding Darnik. He was of no particular clan, his tanned skin scarred and peeling. "If you would come with us, Lady?" the man asked politely, the cold glint of his eyes indicating it was not a request. 

"Go to hell!" she snapped scathingly, her claws brandished threateningly in his direction. She would never meekly surrender to a mere human, no matter how bad the odds were in her favor. 

The human shrugged, unconcerned, his sword suddenly in motion. "Ladies first." His blow was clearly aimed to disable her, rather than to kill. Apparently the Ludians had been ordered to capture her alive. It was not a reassuring notion.

She dodged his blow, jumping over a second. "I will permit thee to announce me!" she retorted, angling her body to slip beyond his immediate reach. Ducking under his next thrust, she lashed out at his wrist, making him drop the blade with a cry of pain. As the human struggled to retrieve his weapon she stepped close to him and drove her sharpened nails into his eyes. His shrill scream rang in her ears as she retrieved his sword and drove it through his ribs in one smooth motion.

Unsheathing the blade from the mortal's corpse, she rose to aid Darnik, only to find the rest of the humans had taken her measure and full six of them approached her. She swung the blade experimentally before her. She rarely had occasion to fight with a sword, but she had learned enough over the years to make the advancing mortals very sorry they had incurred her attention. Before they could reach her, a voice from the right drew the attention of those not currently occupied with staying alive.

"Hey, leave her alone!" It was a girl's voice, and Yahla was mildly reminded of the voice of the mortal Elena, although Elena's voice had a significantly higher saccharin content. Risking a look to her right, she saw a civilian sandflier grind to a halt and four figures jump to the ground. Three landed gracefully, the fourth touching down with a metallic clank and wobbling before regaining its balance. They drew weapons as they went, and Yahla felt her mind suddenly stop operating as a very familiar presence invaded her senses. And yet, the incongruous differences and the fact that her beloved was nowhere near drew her to realize the truth of who and what exactly had come to her aid.

Her eyes locking unerringly on the blue haired boy who had unexpectedly joined them on the battlefield, she didn't realize her situation until it was too late. Backpedaling as one of her six attackers ripped his sword through the flesh of her exposed wing, she narrowly avoided a second blow. As the first blade caught on one of the joints of her wing, her balance faltered and forsook her. She twisted to dodge a third attack but stumbled and fell. The dragoness landed awkwardly, head first, and a disconcerting silence settled over the battlefield as the sickening crack of breaking bone rang through the air.

Darnik broke the silence with a howl of rage, tears rimming his eyes. The next discernable noise was cry of a soldier as the windian rammed his spearhead entirely through the man. He ripped it out and swung the spear up in time parry the blow of one his two remaining opponents. "BASTARD!" His scream of fury degenerated into a blue streak that would have ashamed the most puissant cusser. All the while his mind gibbered in rage and grief…and in guilt, that he had agreed to escort the dragoness safely home…and _failed_.

The surviving Ludian troops streamed forward to engage both Darnik and the newcomers. The strangers responded proficiently, cutting down the forerunners of the encroaching wave. The blue haired boy drew the eye of the captain of the squad and before he had done more than behead a soldier or two, a muttered spell had dropped him to the ground, fast asleep. His companions, a windrunner, windian, and bizarre machine, jumped to guard his prone form. Similarly, Darnik stood over Yahla's still body, noticing out of the corner of his eye the identity of the other Windian. _Princess Nina?!_

The remaining soldiers ganged up on the four defenders, forcing them back on their heels with a flurry of coordinated attacks. Princess Nina and her two friends proved themselves more than capable than protecting themselves, but the superior numbers of the enemy left no doubt as to who would survive the conflict. Darnik lost his helmet somewhere on the battlefield and took a subsequent blow to the head that left him reeling. The princess developed a painful limp somewhere during the battle, and one of the windrunner's long ears was left in tatters. The machine gained numerous dents and scratches, but seemed mostly unharmed. Still, it moved too slowly to make much difference in the battle. Though an occasional Ludian soldier fell here and there, the odds were slowly wearing down Darnik and his newfound allies.

Darnik struggled to regain his balance, then lost his feet entirely as one of his opponents knocked him over. His back hit the sand, his hands losing their grip on his weapon. The rest of the enemy stalked in, and the windian saw his death in their cold eyes. His spear flung from his hands, he crawled backwards toward it, determined not to go down without a fight. 

Time stopped as a ground-shaking roar silenced the petty noises of sword against sword and the swearing of human voices. The sound deafened the ears of those nearest and revived the memories of old nightmares in the rest. A second cry, haunting and undulating, rose up after the first. Even before the air had ceased vibrating, an imposing beast landed solidly among the combatants, an explosion of sand springing up where its paws touched down. 

Frozen with sudden terror, the nearest humans could only stare at the muscular animal as it turned its wolf-like face toward them. Its blue and tan fur rippled as its coiled muscles propelled it forward and its befanged jaws snapped shut on flesh and bone. A white furred twin of the first made its presence known on the other side of the battlefield. It dashed a human aside with the back of its paw and ripped another mortal open with its massive claws, blood splattering its golden mane and staining its cat-like face. Both fell limp to the desert floor, the skull of the first shattered and caved in on itself. Some of the humans tried to turn and run, unwilling to accept the inevitable death that awaited them. They were cut down in their tracks, their screams silenced and their heartbeats stilled. 

Uncertain what to make of the situation, Darnik struggled to his knees and then to his feet, staring as the two creatures moved about the battlefield like twin angels of death, leaving only shattered bone and rended flesh in their wake. Blood stained the desert sand and Darnik absently wondered when there would next be rain to wash it clean. He saw out of the corner of his eye, Nina and her friends help their woozy companion to his feet. The blue haired boy swayed, then seemed to shake the sleep from his mind. He exclaimed over the carnage around them and retrieved the sword he had misplaced when he had dropped into slumber.

Then the last Ludian fell with a wail of protest, and the strange beasts licked the blood from their muzzles. Their fur, blue and white respectively, was stained red with blood and gore, making them look all the more like mirror images of each other. They turned to regard the four survivors, padding softly forward toward them. Darnik warily retained his defensive stance as they circled him curiously, prepared to fight to the death against this new threat. 

One of the creatures stepped past Darnik and stood over Yahla's body…and leaned carefully down to sniff her face.


	34. Chapter 32 Our Master's Lady

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Well, I'm back from vacation. I've gotten hardly anything done writing-wise, due to my inablility to concentrate when stuffed in a car with my entire family. However, I promise to chain myself to the keyboard again, now that I'm home.

kanz - Thank you! Although, personally, my knowledge of Middle English isn't that great…and I'm using a really bastardized version here, both to match the game and so that my readers understand.

****

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Thirty Two

Our Master's Lady

"Stay away from her!" Taking his life in his hands, Darnik darted forward at the massive animal. He'd be damned if he'd allow the body of his fallen friend to be a meal for some overgrown canine!

He promptly found himself on his back, a heavy paw grinding his spine into the dirt. His fragile wings were half-caught under his body, and he instinctively struggled to free them, stirring up a cloud of sand as they vainly beat against the ground. Massive claws easily penetrated his heavy armor and carved superficial wounds on his chest as his hands came up to pull futilely at the crushing weight that threatened to suffocate him. The blue wolf's nostrils flared and the creature rested its weight further against the windian's torso, growling, "Thou carryeth her scent." The rumbling voice was accompanied by a breath of hot air that stirred the human's matted hair. The exhalation smelled of metallic blood and stung his eyes and nose. 

"What doth a mortal with our Master's Lady?" the other asked inimically, tail lashing the air. The being loomed over its brother's shoulder, his bared teeth an unmistakable threat. The five-inch incisors glistened with a sheen of blood and saliva, tinting their white surface copper.

"Don't hurt him!" his cousin cried, moving anxiously toward them. The blue-haired boy intercepted her and murmured quietly to her. As a result, the princess drew back, though her wide blue eyes betrayed her distress.

As Darnik choked and attempted to draw enough breath into his compressed lungs to answer, the blue-haired boy interrupted, walking slowly to stand beside the two entities. His sword was sheathed over his shoulder, its red tassel bobbing. His voice was soft but confident as the youth spoke. "Your master? You serve Fou-Lu, then." 

His face registered no fear as the two creatures swung their heads round to regard him, one of them growling softly as his blue eyes dauntlessly met both golden and silver. As they caught his scent their aggressive stance vanished into surprise. The wolf-like one whined softly and the other's tail abruptly arrested its slashing movement.

"You know who I am," the blue haired one said quietly, his following request holding some unknown weight with the two creatures. "Let him go, please, if you've any respect for me." 

The pressure gradually eased, and Darnik struggled to his knees. He would have made a break for it, but the canine entity swung back around at the sound of his movement and the animal's slit-pupiled eyes compelled him to justify his presence. "I came with her as her guide, to help protect her!" he panted, swallowing a mouthful of dust he had inhaled. Of course, Yahla hardly needed a guide _now_.

Before his interrogation could continue, Nina stepped between the creatures and knelt by Yahla's body. Both beings turned suspicious eyes upon her and Darnik caught a flash of concern in the blue-haired boy's eyes. He himself wondered nervously what his cousin was up to.

"Princess Nina!" Darnik exclaimed, coughing as he finished, "What are you doing?" He was fond of his cousin, and the way the two animals were looking at her gave him the impression that she was in immediate danger.

His cousin raised her chin, a stubborn light in her eyes. Darnik had seen that look before, generally when Nina insisted on doing something dangerous against the express wishes of her father. Such as personally running off to search for her sister in the depths of the Empire. "I want to see if I can help!" the windian defended herself, seeming unaware of the reason for his worry.

__

Help her… "She's dead, dammit!" he responded angrily, tears still in his eyes. "_Look_ at her!" His explosive outburst ended in a choked sob as he stared at the woman that had become so dear a friend to him. She lay on the desert floor, her head at an unnatural angle to her body. The bloody ruin of one wing was coated in sand, the rest of her green skin dulled to gray by the dust.

Nina shook her head empathetically, "Darnik, I knew a boy who broke his neck and lived! Of course, he was paralyzed for the rest of his life, but…" she trailed off uncomfortably, her hands going to check the dragoness' life signs. Her face brightened and she exclaimed triumphantly. "There, see! She still has a pulse." Suddenly hopeful, Darnik alighted at Nina's side.

"Indubitably, she liveth," the leonine being rumbled, seemingly more cordial as it became clear that all present wished only to aid the dragoness. 

"Be she not Endless?" the other creature finished, also warming to the mortals. 

The blue-haired boy spared them both a glance. "Can you heal her?" he asked seriously, nodding to the prone body. 

The creature looked somewhat ashamed, tucking its tail between its legs. "Alas, 'tis beyond us to do such," it admitted remorsefully, as though its inability to heal the female was a definite failure on its part.

"She's really badly hurt, Ryu," Nina told the blue haired boy, her eyes worried. She nibbled on her lower lip, a nervous habit he suspected she had developed sometime during her recent adventures. "The bones are really messed up. I think there are some bone fragments floating around in there, and her spinal cord is pretty badly damaged."

The machine spoke from behind the boy named Ryu, startling Darnik badly. "Ershin says that the break must be set, or the backbone will not heal properly."

Wringing her hands before her, Nina exclaimed unhappily, "But I don't know how to do that!" As none of Nina's other friends volunteered their aid, Darnik assumed Nina was the only healer among them.

Remembering Nina's reference to life-long paralysis, he pleaded, "Don't you have a spell or something, Coz?" The wonder of magic could often reduce weeks of healing to a few days, although truly gifted healers were rare.

"Not to deal with broken bones!" she said in somewhat of a wail, "My spells could make them heal faster, but unless they're set they'll still heal all _wrong_!" 

Ryu nodded grimly, sapphire eyes closing in thought. "Alright, Nina. Can she be moved?" He glanced back up at her as she started to answer a negative, then reconsidered. 

"Well, we'd have to totally immobilize her head and neck," the little windian replied, "Or else she'll just get hurt even more."

"Okay, here's what we'll do, then," the leader of the party decided. "Nina, you make sure she stays alive. Scias, Ershin. The three of us will see about making a stretcher. We can pack cloth and sand around her head to keep it still when we move her onto the sandflier. Then we'll try to drive to the nearest settlement with a professional doctor. Hopefully you'll be able to keep her alive until then, Nina." 

Apparently accepting the boy's words as law, the two creatures seated themselves on either side of Yahla and waited for the mortals to complete their appointed tasks. Their position relative to the dragoness seemed intended both to guard her and to shade her from the rays of the rising sun.

"I'm helping," Darnik declared resolutely, scrubbing the tears from his face with the back of his hand.

Ryu nodded, willingly accepting the additional aid. "Sure…Darnik, was it?" he asked as the four walked over to scavenge the dead bodies of the Ludian troops.

"Yeah," the windian said as he pushed his tired limbs to keep up with the three strangers. He couldn't help but to envy them their health and energy, have lost most of his in the last twelve days. As soon as he got back to a place where water was a free commodity he intending to drink his weight's worth.

"I'm Ryu," the young man said benevolently, nodding to each of his companions in turn, "The windrunner is Scias and the animated suit of armor to your left is Ershin."

The windrunner stuttered a brief greeting, shortly followed by Ershin, who said, "Ershin is glad to meet you, she is." The armor nodded his way, its electronic sensors blinking mockingly at him.

Greetings out of the way, Darnik mused absently that he was cursed to be surrounded by oddly speaking individuals in his life. Well, this Ryu seemed a normal enough individual, at least in the linguistics department. Although…his vividly blue hair and the way the two beasts had obeyed him had been disconcerting and had suggested that something was very strange about the young man. Darnik suddenly realized he had seen these people before, when Nina had returned to the castle some time ago. He had heard rumors she was on her way to speak to the wind dragon, but hadn't been afforded a chance to speak with her. However he had caught a glimpse of her, along with her four companions, three of which still accompanied her presently. 

The four set to work quickly, the rising sun beginning to return the air to its sweltering daytime temperature. They gathered spears and shields from the deceased Ludians, along with anything else they thought could be useful. The shields, small curved affairs, were eventually discarded as useless. However, the spear shafts proved useful and they spent some time removing the spearheads and created a basic frame for their stretcher. Cloaks and capes from the enemy, originally used to block the blazing sun and prevent unduly rapid evaporation of sweat that could result in an unhealthy chill, were ripped into strips and braided into impromptu ropes. The resulting rope was to be used to tie the joints of the rectangular frame together, although their project never actually reached that stage.

The burning sun finally drove Darnik to collapse around noon. He had been helping rip up cloth for their stretcher when a dizzy spell swept him off his feet. He had not thought to ask his new companions for food or drink, concerned with Yahla's well being as he was. Besides, the ache of thirst and hunger had become his constant companion over the last twelve days and he hardly noticed it anymore. He had forgotten how much the deprivation of the basic necessities had weakened him. 

The youth, Ryu, caught him as he toppled and helped him to sit down. "Are you alright?" the other questioned, clearly concerned. His eyes narrowed as he inspected the trembling windian, who looked definitely woozy. A moment later, he asked sternly, "How long has it been since you had enough to eat or drink?"

"Twelve days…I think," the windian admitted, feeling strangely detached from his failing body. Though the sun was high in the sky, he wasn't sweating buckets like the others were. His body couldn't afford to lose precious moisture through perspiration. In fact, the heat wasn't bothering him much at all. He felt strangely cold, for some reason.

Ryu swore softly, helping him to stand and practically carrying Darnik over to the shade of the sandflier. Darnik was surprised at the strength the smaller man displayed, since he not only weighed enough to make carrying difficult, he was also wearing over fifty pounds of armor. That made yet another oddity about the youth. Who was this Ryu and what was he doing with Nina? What was he doing _here_?

Ryu set him down against the side of the airship and jumped up onto the deck to retrieve a sack of provisions. Landing lightly back down on the sand, he offered the windian a jug of water and some food. The offerings were neither anything fancy. The food was the sort of hard bread that lasts months and fruit dried to the consistency of brick. The water would no-doubt have absorbed the flavor of its leather container, an unappealing occurrence that no traveler could avoid. 

Darnik tilted his head back to let the blessed liquid run down his throat, barely hearing Ryu's caution that drinking too much on an empty stomach would make him sick. The water, having sat in the desert heat for an unspecified length of time, was warm and stale, but it was the best thing his dehydrated mouth had ever experienced. He stopped after a few gulps, aware that wasting water was the last thing any of them could afford to do. He moved on to the humble fare that had been given him, chewing determinedly until it at last yielded to his teeth.

"Stay here and rest," Ryu instructed him, forestalling his protest, "We'll finish the stretcher soon, and you need the rest more than we need your help. Unless you want us to need two stretchers after you drive yourself into collapse again?"

Darnik opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by Nina's cry, "Ryu! There's someone coming this way!" 

The blue-haired youth reached her side momentarily, putting a hand up to shade his eyes as he peered into the desert. Several sandfliers cruised straight for them in a formation that was vaguely military…


	35. Chapter 33 Personal Business

****

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Thirty Three

Personal Business

Ursula called her trio of sandfliers to a halt as they neared the strange scene. Another sandflier was already parked there, the scarcity of sand collected on its surface indicating it was a recent arrival, and there were a handful of figures around it. Several of the figures stood where two strange beasts sat guard over a still body lying in the sand. Other bodies lay roasting in the sun, the dried blood of over twenty corpses staining the surrounding sand brown. Whatever had committed the carnage hadn't used sword or another such weapon; the marks on the fallen weren't clean enough for that. In fact, the mangled bodies looked very much as though they'd been savaged by some sort of animal, and Ursula felt her eyes drift to the two beasts as she jumped out of the sandflier. The majority of her troops pursued her, falling into formation with their guns drawn. Only a handful of soldiers remained behind to guard their transportation from those who would look to acquire it. 

A blue haired youth stood nearest the two animals, a small windian at his side. His blue shock of hair was pulled back in a ponytail and his white shirt, which he had apparently ripped the sleeves from, was tucked into the high waistline of his baggy pants. They were purple, like his low-cut shoes. Both the neckline and waistline of his outfit was lined with vivid red that was nearly as eye-catching as his hair. In spite of his tattered appearance, not a hint of stubble lined his chiseled jaw, suggesting he either shaved often or was too young to grow a beard. His finger-less gloves, nearly the same tan as his skin, covered hands that currently wielded several feet of wicked steel. From his carriage it was clear he knew how to use the blade. 

The little blonde appeared less of a danger, seeming at first glance no more than a delicate beauty, but the long wand she brandished suggested magical training. She wore a long-sleeved blue dress, the hemline falling to mid thigh. Blue knee-high boots and a blue headband matched the dress. In fact, brown tights and a white shawl were all she wore that _wasn't_ blue. 

Two others joined them as Ursula watched, a katana-wielding windrunner in a green robe and some sort of machine. The four stood facing her approaching troops as the two entities stood like silent sentinels over the still body in the sand. 

Their description matched the one the king of Windia had given her, and when she saw the windian male near the sandflier struggle to his feet, Ursula knew she had finally found what she had spent the last month and a half searching for. 

They halted, a substantial distance between them. As Ursula brought her troops to a stop, she suddenly recognized one of the animals. She had only seen the imposing white and gold creature once in her life, when she was a youth assigned patrol duty in the capitol. Still, she recognized the Lion when she saw him. More than anything that confirmed the identity of the body that lay behind the living barricade. Why else would one of the emperor's pets be here?

The kitsune stepped away from her troops, sheathing her gun in what she hoped looked like a peaceful motion. Glancing at the entities once more, she addressed the foremost human. "You're Ryu, aren't you? I had been warned I might run into you and your friends." The Windian king had been very helpful…something about repaying a standing debt…

He studied her a moment before responding, his handsome face unreadable. "Yes, that's me. It seems you have me at a disadvantage…" His raised eyebrow prompted a reply, and she found herself giving one before she quite realized what she was doing.

"I am Captain Ursula, of the Fou Imperial Army," she told him, pride in voice and bearing. Her rank in the army had been hard earned, and she was truly honored to serve the Empire in that capacity. She continued imperiously, "My orders are from the Emperor himself: to find and return with the an individual of some value to His Majesty. I believe you know of whom I'm speaking."

The young man nodded and smiled slightly, his spiky bangs falling down in front of his face and obscuring his eyes. It further interfered with Ursula's ability to read him and added to her irritation. "Oh, yes. You came to the right place, at least." Ursula frowned imperceptibly at his dry comment, although she was somewhat appeased when the boy returned his sword to its sheathe. The steel rasped noisily as it slid back into its sheath; the sand made it almost impossible to keep weapons clean and well oiled. She did notice he left an inch of the metal showing so that the blade would draw easily should he need it immediately. His friends followed his lead without hesitation, putting aside their various weapons. Clearly, they were not looking for a fight, particularly with a task force of a hundred handpicked imperials.

The female windian (Princess Nina, if Ursula recalled correctly) stepped forward, limping slightly. She bore signs of no other wounds, save a scratch or two and an occasional broken feather. "Please, do you have a healer with you?" The request was clearly not for the Princess' sprain, as such injuries were minor and repaired themselves with a bit of rest.

Ursula felt her eyes drift toward the still body as she nodded. "Of course. Every independent task force has a field medic in case of emergencies." Part of what made the independent task forces of the Empire so efficient was their ability to be completely self-sufficient when needed. Ursula prided herself on the fact that her troops could last months in the field under the worst of circumstances, and insured that she had the medical personal she needed to keep her men healthy.

Ryu glanced at his companions and nodded to them, passing an unspoken message with the simple motion. As the small group stepped aside, allowing her to see their carefully guarded prize, Ursula felt her heart drop down into her boots.

A slender woman lay sprawled on the sand, matching perfectly the description the emperor had given Ursula. Her pale green skin and gleaming chain mail bore a powdery layer of dust and the grime of months without a bath had adhered itself to her body. She was remarkably thin except for the rounded stomach signaling her advancing pregnancy. It was as though she had not eaten well in some time, which was doubtless the case. Deep emerald wings were spread bonelessly against the sand, one wing a tattered ruin. A verdant tail was tangled awkwardly around one slender leg. The female looked remarkably frail, but her delicate hands bore wicked claws and her feet were grasping talons. Her long white hair was tangled, acting almost as a shroud in some places.

Her neck was broken.

"I hate to tell you this, but our medic may be good, but he can't do miracles," Ursula told them angrily, her frustration at the situation welling up in her voice. The doctor was, in fact, one of the best the Empire had to offer. Allowed to commandeer just about anything for the sake of her mission, Ursula had hand picked both soldiers and personnel.

"She isn't dead!" the windian exclaimed with a flash of ire of her own. "I can't heal her because I don't know how to set bones properly, and I haven't any idea how to take care of a broken neck or heal damaged nerves! You came all the way out here! Are you saying you're just going to give up on her now?!" The blue haired boy put his hand on her shoulder and she calmed back down, looking genuinely embarrassed at her outbreak. "Oh, I'm sorry. That was rude of me."

Skeptical that anything could survive such an injury, Ursula called the medic over from the sandflier and nodded meaningfully to the body. He was a small, nondescript man; dark haired and brown eyed like much of the empire. Outside of uniform and without his kit of treatments he would have been mistaken for a common laborer. He knelt at the woman's side and confirmed after a moment that she was indeed alive, albeit barely. 

"Can you fix her?" the kitsune asked, expecting the usual bluntness from the man. He had never been one to avoid bad news or attempt to soften an unfortunate report, unlike many sedentary doctors. That was one of the things that had encouraged her to bring him along, for in a military situation the decisions she made would depend on knowing exactly the situation their force was in. 

The medic replied without hesitation, continuing his cursory examination as he spoke, "I'd hesitate to give a diagnose without looking further at her. I can realign the bones and patch up her wing, but if the spinal cord is too badly damaged, she'll never regain feeling or movement from the neck down." Several of the listeners winced, and Ursula wondered briefly whether bring the emperor back a wife who was crippled for life was really any better than bringing home a dead one. "In the meantime, Captain, I want to get her out of the sun and on to one of the sandfliers."

"Go on." The medical officer was expected to keep her soldiers in health and was thus one of the only people under her command allowed to disagree with her or make demands if it was in the interest of the health (and thus the success) of the troops. In fact, it was his duty to bring worries to her attention, although as commanding officer she could overrule him at any point.

"Thank you, Captain. Ming, Yasho. Bring me the stretcher off the sandflier, please." The soldiers in question obeyed immediately, extracting and unfolding the frame. Ursula noticed Ryu and his friends exchange rueful looks as it was carried forward. 

The doctor oversaw the transfer of the wounded female, careful to keep her head still until her could see the extent of the damage. Then two of the soldiers lifted her into the sandflier and carried her below deck. The doctor followed his patient after commandeering Nina's aid, preferring the aid of a novice healer to the clueless hands of the soldiers.

Ursula watched them vanish below the deck of the sandflier, then turned her attention back to the group of Ryu's friends. The male windian that had rested against the non-imperial sandflier had made his way over to join them. Blond-haired and blue-eyed, there was a definite resemblance between him and the princess. He was desperately thin, the armor that hung loose on his frame and his hollow cheekbones further evidence of his near starvation. 

The emperor's pet beasts flanked Ryu in what was clearly a threat, although to who, she couldn't be certain. 

"What now?" Ryu asked her, still an amiable, unreadable presence. There was something strange about him, and Ursula felt her hackles rising.

"My orders are to return to the Empire with the lady. I intend to fulfill them," she replied curtly, motioning for several dozen of her men to return to the sandflier to guard the lady.

"We're coming with you," the blue haired one said confidently, seeming completely unaware of the stir his words created in the imperial ranks.

Ursula frowned. She hadn't been given the authority to bring citizens of the Alliance into the Empire, and there was something about Ryu that she didn't trust. Whatever secret lay beneath his skin, whatever plot he had, she wasn't going to let someone as strange and potentially dangerous into the Empire. Ursula had never really trusted the abnormal. "While the Empire thanks you for your aid, I can't just let citizens of the Alliance loose in the Empire!"

"I have personal business with your emperor," the youth said, as if he expected the explanation to change her mind. 

"I don't know what you were expecting, but His Majesty is a busy man! You won't get past the palace gates!" Ursula told him incredulously. He actually expected an audience with the _emperor_?! 

"He'll see me," the boy said confidently, unperturbed by the stares around him.

"And what makes you think _that_?" she asked, beginning to think she was dealing with a madman. An Alliance peasant, simply walking into the Empire and going to see the emperor with no further ado…it just wasn't done! He'd find himself dead or imprisoned in seconds if he ever attempted such a thing!

A slight smile crossed his face. That and his following words convinced Ursula of her previous mental assessment. "I'm a dragon." His words were plainspoken, and Ursula couldn't help but be impressed by his ability to make even so ridiculous a claim sound honest. 

"Do you think I'm an idiot?! Why would I believe that?!" she demanded harshly, angry that he thought her enough of a fool to accept such a claim. Some of her troops snickered and she swung around to glare at them, though she knew they were laughing at the madman, not at her. Still, the laughter died immediately, as if it had never been. No one wanted to risk their captain's anger. 

Ryu shrugged and nodded to the Lion and his brother. "You could ask them." The twin animals watched her silently, so absolutely still that it was unnerving. _Do they even breathe?_

"You're insane," she snapped, unconsciously tightening her grip on her gun. Her store of patience, not particularly great in the first place, was rapidly running out.

He shrugged again, a slightly impudent half-smile at his lips. "Alright, here goes."

Ursula had to choke down her sudden shock as the boy proved his words beyond a doubt. She heard guns being reloaded behind her as Ryu's face contorted in a silent scream, his clothing disintegrating around him. As they fell away in shreds, the cause became rapidly visible, along with the changes overcoming him. The skin of his body split messily along his back and at the tips of his fingers and toes. At his shoulders, the multiple ruptures allowed the emergence of two wings as red as the blood currently covering them. At the base of his spine a long tail ripped its way forth. Deadly claws cut their way out his fingers, the same occurring at his feet, where the bones had already broken and re-merged themselves into vaguely raptor-like appendages. Ryu's hair bleached white, though a spray of blood marred its perfection as twin horns grew from his temples. A grimace of pain clearly showed his suddenly sharp teeth, framed by twin stripes of red across his face. Blood red scales shoved their way through the skin of forearms, waist, and legs. Like tiny knives, they split the skin wherever they emerged, smoothing down to cover the ruined exterior.

At last the hybrid dragon stood in his full glory, his own blood clinging to his tanned skin and scarlet scales. It had dripped down his body, spraying the sand, and Ursula shuddered as he opened his orange eyes and looked at her. Though he stared directly at her, her image was not reflected in the fiery orbs.

Seemingly unperturbed by the violence of his own transformation or the nearly eighty guns trained nervously on him, Ryu said, "Well, Captain?" His voice was deeper, richer than it had been and more sibilant. His pronunciation seemed to have shifted slightly as well, probably due to a mouthful of longer teeth.

Trying to quell her superstitious reaction, Ursula demanded, "Change back!" The tremor in her voice was inaudible to human ears, but Ursula had the unnerving feeling the dragon had heard it. 

Nina, reemerging on the deck of the sandflier, jumped down and ran over. Looking alarmed at the sight of her friend facing off with several scores of nervous imperials, she cried out to him, "Ryu!"

The dragon turned his head to regard the windian; his fire-like eyes seemed to soften momentarily and his alien face seemed fleetingly to regain its humanity. He reversed the change as Nina reached his side. 

It was little better to see the process in reverse. The dragon's tail sucked back into his spine, his claws shriveled and were replaced by dull nails. His scales shook themselves loose from his skin and were shed unceremoniously. When it was over, he stood exactly as he had before demonstrating his abilities…except this time, Ryu was utterly naked.


	36. Chapter 34 Scales

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A shorter chapter here…I'm not feeling particularly inspired today, so my writing's crap. 

rainbowrose- I think Cray's perfectly fine at home, actually. He gets to boss around an entire army and kill lots of stuff…and he's engaged to the woman of his dreams. Even better, he's far enough away from her he doesn't have to listen to her talk about wedding plans. XD

Crimson Primrose- Yes, I'm afraid both he and Fou-Lu share a tendency to run around in the nude. Humans beware! (NAKED DRAGON CROSSING!)

aegis- Congratulations…You have discovered the real reason dragons don't have a nudity taboo. *Lol*

Luna's Meow- No Kaiser yet…I may or may not give it to him… Depends on whether or not I remember to write it in when we reach the appropriate chapter. ^_^ 

****

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Thirty Four

Scales

"Ryu!" the windian scolded, blushing slightly at the sight of the dragon's naked body. Still in shock from what he had just witnessed, Darnik unconsciously felt a bit of envy at the sight. Though he had often enough been told that he was pleasing to the eye, the human knew he didn't remotely compare to the athletic dragon. _Why do dragons always have to make the rest of us look like crap?_

The dragon looked down at himself, seeming to realize for the first time that his clothes hadn't returned with his transformation. While he seemed comfortable in his own nudity, he genuinely appeared to regret flustering his human audience. "Ah…sorry!" he exclaimed amid the stares.

"That…looks like a great way to get sand in uncomfortable places," Darnik commented, attempting to recover his composure. _Why didn't anyone tell me Nina was travelling with a dragon?! _Still, surprise was overwhelmed by the need to throw what little was in his stomach back up. The sight of the youth shedding one form for another was probably one of the grossest things he'd ever seen. The blood from the transformation remained on the dragon's skin, dried fast, and would for a while. Baths were rather difficult to find in the desert. 

"You have no idea…If you'll excuse me for a moment." The dragon headed for his sandflier; the craft was dwarfed next to the larger three the Imperials had brought with them. The bright sun gave everyone a very good look at the Endless' physique, which ran towards lean and wiry. Darnik noticed out of the corner of his eye that Nina wasn't averting her eyes quite as much as he'd have expected. He made a mental note to ask her about that as soon as the situation resolved itself. Just what was this dragon to her?

Moments later, the boy reappeared, casually adjusting the fit of his new clothes. They were essentially identical to his previous outfit, wrinkled with the occasional folding crease here and there. Perhaps the pants were of a vaguely different shade and the shirt a brighter white, but apparently the dragon-boy had decided upon a style of dress and stuck to it. Though he had replaced his gloves, his now went barefoot. He jumped down onto the sand, the soles of his feet seemingly unaffected by the searing hot sand. As Ryu walked casually though ankle-deep sand that would have inflicted unbearable pain on any other there, Darnik noticed for the first time that the dragon wasn't sweating, either. Had heat no affect on him at all?

"What was that?!" Ursula demanded, her hands shaking slightly on the grip of her gun. The rest of her troops were likewise unnerved, the fact that they had held their ground speaking of their high level of training. Their spooked expressions might have been humorous, but the mirth of the situation was somewhat ruined by the impressive arsenal under control of the alarmed bunch. The captain took a step toward the dragon, but one of the massive animals flanking him snarled a threat and she backed away hastily.

Ryu shrugged depreciatively, still fiddling with the fit of one glove. "That? I lost control over the change. I transformed before I could morph my clothes away. I'm haven't been doing this long enough to be particularly good at the metamorphosis part of it." The admission of imperfection demonstrated another difference between Ryu and the dragon Darnik had already known. The proud dragoness would only have admitted anything was wrong under duress.

"And that's why your bodily fluids decided to come out and play, huh?" Darnik asked, trying not to thing of skin shredding itself or of being ripped apart from the inside out. Simply watching had been nightmare material, and he couldn't even image what it would be like to experience that.

"That would be why. Although, it's not normally that grisly." The dragon said apologetically, glancing down at the dried blood on his palms. 

Left without anything of real substance to say, Darnik responded with his usual drivel. "Too bad. I think watching _that_ would freak your enemy out more than the actual end result." Indeed, having spent weeks around one dragon already, it was his nauseated stomach that was troubling him, not any fear. 

"A messy transformation also hurts more," the immortal informed him, unoffended by the absurd commentary. It was a nice change from Yahla repeatedly telling him to shut up.

Darnik took a deep breath and swallowed his nausea, his face returning to its normal color. "…Sucks to be you, then." 

The imperial captain broke into the conversation, ignoring Darnik to concentrate on Ryu. "Who are you?! What is your business in this?!" She sounded perturbed. Darnik had the feeling that this was a woman who liked to have things under control, and that the unknown factor Ryu had just inserted into the situation was most unwelcome.

Ryu sighed wearily, though his face betrayed none of his boredom. "You already know my name and as much of the rest as I'm going to tell you, Captain." 

One of the massive beasts rumbled deep in its throat, addressing the imperial officer, "As thou art the servant of the Master, so this one must be brought before him. 'Tis the will of the Emperor." 

As the kitsune registered the words of the Emperor's creature, Ryu asked gently, "What will it be, Captain? Are we on board, or not?" If not, what would happen, Darnik wondered. Would the imperials simply leave with Yahla, who they would never see again?

There was a long silence before the captain nodded jerkily. "Get on the sandflier." Her flat tone betrayed her displeasure, and she sheathed her gun abruptly at her side.

One of the soldiers behind her stirred, daring to protest, "Captain, he…"

"I don't recall asking your opinion!" she snapped, spinning on the unfortunate conscript. "He'll come under our guard. If we can't keep him from causing trouble then he's powerful enough that refusing to let him into the Empire won't stop him anyhow." Whether the captain's reasoning had reassured her troops or not, no one made further issue of it.

"Thank you for letting us come, Captain Ursula!" Nina exclaimed happily, eyes full of relief. The kitsune glared at her and she added in a more subdued tone, "…The medic told me to tell you how she's doing." There was no question as to who the windian meant.

"Yahla? Will she be alright?" Darnik demanded impatiently, interrupting the Captain's response. The death glare he got in response barely penetrated his concerned mentality.

"It's really too early to tell…but I was right earlier, parts of the vertebrae were crushed. The doctor wants to operate to realign the bones before splinting her neck." Nina's look of concern did little to reassure the others of Yahla's chances. Operations were risky things, particularly in such unsanitary conditions. Infection could kill an otherwise healthy patient or come accompanied by a fatal case of gangrene. Hopefully, Nina's magic and the doctor's potions and skills would stave off such afflictions.

"He wants to cut her open? Isn't that dangerous?" Ryu asked, raising a blue eyebrow. His calm, contemplative air was not without concern, but that worry was more controlled than that of either Nina or Darnik. 

"I don't know…" she replied hesitantly, a frown marring her delicate features, "He said the fracture's too unstable to fix without an operation." 

Ursula, having heard enough, interrupted their conversation without regard for niceties. "We're leaving. Now. Get on one of the sandfliers." Nina and Ryu exchanged glances, but let the discussion die without protest.

"A moment, and we'll have ours up and running." Ryu told the kitsune, turning to head toward the sandflier in question. The cocking of a gun behind him stopped the dragon in his tracks.

"I don't think so," Ursula said tenaciously, her steady aim emphasizing her words. "You're coming with us so I can keep an eye on you."

"But…our things!" Nina exclaimed in dismay, throwing a glance to the small craft they had labored so hard to obtain.

Ursula was unmoved, her mobile ears beginning to flatten against her head. "Some of my men will pilot it for you. Get on board!" 

The party, exchanging glances, complied. An escort of soldiers flanked them, herding them to the nearest sandflier. The last on board, only Darnik caught a glimpse of Captain Ursula lifting a handful of shed scales from the sand.


	37. Chapter 35 Do You Think It's Hereditary?

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Okay, another chapter for all you guys. I would have had it out yesterday, but my stupid computer wouldn't let me on Fanfiction.net. 

Luna's Meow- You wouldn't! Every review? I'll go insane! Whee!

****

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Thirty Five

Do You Think It's Hereditary?

Darnik sat in relative comfort, the deck overhead sparing him from the scorching sun and blinding wind. Only the pilot and the few unfortunates who had drawn guard duty were out in the heat. The rest, including him, sat in the hold, resting or going quietly about their duties. The soldiers sharpened and cleaned their various weapons, the doctor ensconced with Yahla. Only Ryu and the two metaphysical beasts were missing, most likely on the deck, away from prying eyes. Heat didn't seem to bother Ryu at all, and if either animal suffered they never mentioned it. Darnik had seen the three speaking amongst each other often in the past few days, generally away from the rest of the group. Whatever they had to say to each other remained a mystery, although Darnik suspected it had something to do with the emperor.

The sandflier's hold had been intended to carry merchandise and to run on a skeleton crew, not as a military transport vehicle. Thus, there was one small room set aside, with a cot currently serving as Yahla's berth. The rest of the ship was undivided into sections, resulting in a distinct lack of privacy. There were no bunks, no specified places to sleep, but military group had organized their possessions and sleeping quarters into neat rows without prompting from a superior officer. As a result, the hold was easy to navigate and less of the claustrophobic mess it could have been. 

Darnik was bored out of his mind, as tends to be the case when he has absolutely nothing to do. He and the rest of his party were constantly under imperial supervision, even if they were supposedly "guests" of the force. They had only been allowed out of the hold because the two creatures (Won-Qu and A-Tun, according to Ryu) had intimidated the captain into it.

"Hi, Darnik," a quiet voice said at his ear, breaking through the white noise around them. He turned to see his cousin smiling at him, her expressive eyes examining his face in the dim light. "You look a lot better." It was true, he did. For the first time in weeks he had enough to eat and drink, even if it was dry rations and stale water. His skin had lost its sallow tone, and he hoped he would start regaining some of his weight soon.

"Yeah," Any serious comments he could come up with disregarded as usual, he replied, "I still think you'll win the beauty contest, though. I've lost too much weight to compete in the swim suit competition."

Nina had spent her childhood alongside her cousin and was used to his peculiarities. As a child of royal lineage, she hadn't been allowed to play with non-noble children, and Darnik had been the only peer in her age group. As a result the two had made hell together, generally with the older Elena as their target. Young Nina's budding magical abilities had been an invaluable resource at the time. Darnik grinned slightly, remembering the foreign officials that had also fallen to their pranks, as Nina guessed promptly, "You're bored, aren't you?" 

"Yeah." There was a long pause, then he asked, off subject, "Do you think it runs in the family?" 

"What?" she questioned, confusion clear on her face. One thing Nina had never learned as a sheltered and coddled child was how to hide her emotions. Her mind was out there for everyone to read, and Darnik wondered briefly whether she knew.

He shrugged, rattling the armor that had once fit his frame perfectly. "The dragon thing…Here all this time you've been following Blue-Hair around, and then I'm playing tour guide to a dragon of my own." _Why do dragons always have weird hair, anyhow? _

"I guess it is kind of funny that we both got caught up in this," Nina agreed, bemused. However, she seemed to regard it as coincidence, and added a cheerful, "But I'm glad you're with us, Darnik." 

There wasn't much more to say to that, and after a while, Darnik asked aloud, "Is he always that messy?" The scene of Ryu's skin ripping itself to shreds had unnerved him more than he would admit. He didn't even want to think about Yahla changing shape…seeing that sort of painful transformation occur with someone he cared about would be almost more than he could stand.

"You mean Ryu?" his cousin discerned, showing some of the intelligence that hid under her child-like exterior. "No, most of the time he's pretty good at keeping it under control. Well, when he's just changing halfway, anyhow. When he turns into a full dragon it can be pretty nasty." The expression on her face suggested he didn't want to ask how nasty that was. "We also have to go clothes shopping a lot because of that."

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I have a feeling Ryu was a tad bit more open with her than Yahla ever was with me…in more way than one. "What do you mean, full?" 

Nina looked at him quizzically, sitting on her knees at his side. "Haven't you ever seen your dragon change?" She brushed her hair out of her eyes with one hand, the other still resting palm up on her thigh.

"No, she didn't use her powers at all…something about being knocked up." Even after Yahla had tried to explain it to him, Darnik still didn't quite understand what _that_ had to do with anything. 

"Um…okay. Well, Ryu can change into a half-dragon, or into a full dragon." Nina begin, looking remarkably fastidious next to her cousin, who was slouched lazily against the wall. Darnik's parents had tried to raise him prim and proper…instead they had ended up with a womanizing comedian. Oh well…he wasn't their only son, anyhow.

"Well, duh," the other windian said, sliding down to sprawl on the floor. "He's not pregnant. And just as well. I don't think he's cut out for motherhood." _His kids would be so screwed up… _

She giggled, then continued more seriously, "The half-dragon was what you saw. You probably already knew that." Indeed, he did. Having spent weeks in Yahla's presence, he was quite accustomed to the hybrid dragon form. More specifically, he had learned those wings were a lot sturdier than they looked and hurt when they smacked you in the face.

"What does he look like in full dragon form?" he asked curiously, wondering what form Yahla would take. An image of the ridiculous, overweight lizard he had seen on some noble's coat of arms rose in his mind. Whatever form she took, it wouldn't be _that_! It would be something graceful, something fluid and slender. He just couldn't see Yahla as a fat, old lizard. Even _if_ she was pregnant.

"He's a fire dragon, but he has lots of forms he can take. Usually he doesn't use a stronger form than he has to, because it tires him." She continued, describing several forms, all of which sounded suitably large and impressive. As she finished the recounting of each form, he responded with the appropriate oohing and ahhing. They weren't all what he'd expect a dragon to look like, but what did he know of dragons, anyway? 

After Nina finished her dragon description, Darnik broached another subject that had been occupying his mind. "What's he want with Emperor, Nina?" While the God-Emperor would obviously welcome the return of his mate, Darnik had to wonder how he would take to the competition of another dragon in a land where he alone was God. 

Nina hesitated, glancing at the rows of soldiers around them. Although the troops respected one another's privacy in such tight accommodations by minding their own business, there was no telling how many ears would catch their conversation. She leaned in close to him, the smell of her skin carrying across the distance between them. Somehow, even in the desert, she managed to stay impeccable. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't tell you that here, in front of everyone…why don't you ask Ryu?" 

__

I try to avoid talking to people who look like they've had their hair styled with a weed-whacker, actually. "You're worried about it, whatever it is," he observed astutely, watching her fidget with her wand. Gentling his tone, he asked, "What is he to you, coz? He hurts you and I'll rearrange his gonads to hang behind his tonsils."

Her head shot up with an exclamation. "Darnik!" She looked so horrified, her hands going up to cover her mouth, that he had to fight back a burst laughter. 

"Alright, I won't…" Honestly, he tried to forestall his grin, but it was a losing battle. He propped himself up on one elbow to watch her response. "You _like_ him, don't you?" In his life, Darnik had never known his cousin to have any interest in any of the males she met. She befriended everyone, but had never fallen in love. She had always said she was waiting for the right person…

She blushed and glanced away, blond bangs falling back in her face and shielding her lowered eyes. Even with her face hidden, her reddening ears told their own story. "Um…maybe." 

"Hah! Knew it!" he exclaimed triumphantly, his grin fading as she shoved him lightly. 

"Oh, stop it," The princess scolded, shaking her head "Ryu and I are just friends. It wouldn't work out." Was that a hint of hesitation in her voice? Or was he imagining things again?

"Have you even tried to make it work? You're just letting him get away?" Darnik asked, raising an eyebrow. For some one who had waited all her life to find the "right" person, Nina wasn't trying very hard. Unless…had the dragon scorned her? _I'll kill him…_

"It just…just won't! Excuse me, please." Nina left abruptly, heading to the other side of the hold with a flurry of feathers. 

Darnik stared after her, his resolve hardening. It was about time he and Scale-boy had a talk. 

Maybe he should bring his spear.


	38. Chapter 36 Male Posturing

****

Okay, MAJOR IMPORTANT READY-THINGY! Chapters will be slowing down to maybe one a week, hear? Because school starts tomorrow, thus causing my spare time to self-destruct. And since I also have a job, role-play, and take art classes, you'll understand if this ends up on the back burner for a little while. HOWEVER! I am NOT waiting till next summer to finish this, like I did last year. The story will go on. And trust me, I have a lot more to go. 

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Thirty Six

Male Posturing

Darnik stepped out onto the deck, the sun hitting him like a physical blow. He stood blinking, his eyes feeling as though they were going to blister. At last, he managed to adjust and see his surroundings as more than a blur of blinding light. The deck was mainly unoccupied, except for the soldiers stationed at intervals along the railing. They ignored his presence, focused on watching the surrounding desert for any threat. The same scene repeated itself on the other two sandfliers cruising in their vehicle's wake. At the far side of the deck stood Ryu, still in conversation with Won-Qu and A-Tun. The way the strange creatures deferred to the blue-haired dragon was an unnerving reminder of the powers dragons were said to control. The windian caught a bit of their conversation; the name Fou-Lu was mentioned more than once. 

All three turned to look at him as he walked to stand confrontationally in front of Ryu. Dragon or not, no one messed with his cousin. "Ryu, can I have a word with you?"

The dragon regarded him a moment with his unnaturally blue eyes before nodding. "Alright. What is it."

"Could you send them away first?" He eyed the massive creatures uneasily, remembering the carnage they had produced upon arrival. Ryu obliged without protest or suspicion, sending the animals below deck. His confidence bolstered by their departure, Darnik continued more sharply. "What game are you playing with my cousin, dragon?"

The dragon blinked behind the fringe of his vivid blue hair, surprised. "None that I was aware of." 

"What do you want to call it, then?" Darnik snapped, aggravated by the dragon's serene attitude. "Nobody messes with my cousin! You've hurt her, you bastard! Do you like trampling little girl's hearts?"

He was fairly certain he saw the dragon wince before glancing away. Ryu explained softly, his eyes lowered, "I don't want to hurt her…that's why this can't go any farther. I'm expecting an encounter in the next few months that I'm not sure I'll survive…and I won't leave Nina a widow." 

The explanation made Darnik lose some of his confrontational attitude. He frowned, reasoning, "The emperor…you don't expect to live through meeting him. What, he's going to kill you for bringing his wife home?" Or perhaps his earlier musings about the god-emperor being displeased by the added competition of another god had not been so far off.

Ryu shook his head, smiling wryly. "It's more complicated than that." 

"Well, if you change your mind, you and Elena could have a double wedding." Ryu shuddered slightly. Seeing as the dragon wasn't going to be anymore forthcoming, Darnik demanded, "Tell me this…do you love her?" If not, he intended to get downright violent. No overgrown lizard was going to tell him his cousin wasn't "good" enough for him.

"Yes," the dragon replied without hesitation. The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. "Of course I do."

Somewhat mollified but still protective of his cousin's heart, Darnik threatened, "You better, or I'll beat the hell out of you." 

"I don't think you could, honestly," Ryu stated seriously, clearly unconcerned by the possibility. Darnik knew he couldn't seriously do so, as well. He'd been an incompetent fighter next to Yahla, who hadn't even used her powers. Ryu would probably wipe the floor with him without breaking a sweat.

"I'll settle for doing it by proxy," the windian retaliated grimly, trying to keep a smile from twitching loose. "I'll wait for Yahla to get better, then tell her you said her husband was gay." 

Ryu laughed. "I'll keep that in mind." There was a pause as both males contemplated the response the dragoness would have to such a statement. "What's she like?"

Darnik raised an eyebrow, an expression he suspected he had picked up from Yahla somewhere along the line. "Who, Her Divinity?"

"Yeah," confirmed the blue-haired youth, his curiosity clear in his eyes. Darnik could understand that…he had, after all, asked Nina similar questions about Ryu.

Darnik shrugged and gave a brief overview of the dragoness. "Kind of snippy, sort of sarcastic. Doesn't let you know what she's feeling or thinking. Mysterious and secretive. Likes to stir things up. Unashamed and could use a few more scruples. Endearingly arrogant. You know the drill. Pretty much about the opposite of my coz." Nina was talkative and kind, never one to joke at another's expense. She was modest and somewhat shy and perhaps a little too demure for her own good. Yahla was none of that. She was only spoke when she had something meaningful to say and was perfectly willing to smack people around to get her way. 

"Somehow I'm not surprised," Ryu mused, rousing the windian's curiosity. He disregarded it in order to continue his description.

"Still, they're both great people. When I first learned what Yahla was…well, it scared the crap out of me." He still wasn't quite sure what to make of it. "But by now, I'd die for either one of them. So don't you hurt Yahla, either."

Ryu sighed and murmured, "Somehow, I think someone's going to get hurt no matter what I do."

__

What does he mean by that? "Then I'll be beating your ass either way, dragon boy," the mortal replied tauntingly, grinning as the dragon replied in like. 

Ryu smiled mischievously, responding, "You're on, birdbrain."

"Birdbrain, huh?" he retorted, enjoying himself. "At least my hair isn't _blue_!"

"What's wrong with blue?" the dragon demanded mock-angrily, running a hand through his spiky mane.

"Dude!" the windian exclaimed dramatically, "It's blue! It's weird! And all those spikes make you look like you electrocuted yourself as a kid!"

The dragon countered jibingly, "So says the vasectomy poster-child. You look like you're wearing an albino muskrat." He added after a contemplative pause, "A dead, albino muskrat." 

Admittedly, the weeks in the desert spent soaking in his own sweat hadn't helped his hair any. "Hey! Do know how long it's been since I've had a bath?!"

"I can smell pretty well from over here, actually," Ryu commented nonchalantly, grinning as the mortal huffed at him.

"Bastard! Moron!" Actually, this was a lot of fun. He hadn't had an insult contest in years, since that last one that had ended so disastrously. His parents had babbled something about maintaining the family reputation and grounded him for a year.

The godling tsked reproachfully, "You shouldn't insult other people's mothers after what _yours_ did!" 

__

Damn…I think he's winning…"Parasitic pond scum!" he riposted, trying to gain ground through originality. 

The dragon's repartee was more original than his was, unfortunately. "Cranio-rectally inverted idiot!" Darnik made a note to remember that particular insult. It was certainly an elegant way to call someone a butthead.

"Incompetent sheepsucker!" He rallied for a second, but was once again defeated by Ryu's comeback. 

"We can't all be as good at it as you!" Ryu shrugged dismissively. 

"Nardless imbecile!" A bead of sweat ran down into Darnik's eye and he rubbed it away with the back of his hand. His opponent wasn't showing any signs of discomfort at all. _Stupid fire dragon…he has an unfair advantage!_

"When did you first have your epiphany of stupid?" the dragon asked quizzically, raising his eyebrows mockingly at the windian.

Darnik retorted forcefully, "Met you!" 

They both turned at a noise behind them, to see Princess Nina standing on deck, staring at the two grinning males, who blinked innocently back at her. She shook her head and turned to go back down the stairs. "Boys are weird."


	39. Chapter 37 Romantic Turmoil

__

IT LIVES! Sorry it took so long, and that it's so short. But like I said earlier, it's kind of hard to motivate myself to write Ryu and friends chapters, even if they need to be written. And stupid school gives me no time at all. -_-

aegis- Unfortunately for me, it will be a few chapters before I can get back to Yahla(though I will put in a Fou-Lu interlude for a break from all this Ryu and friends stuff) But don't worry, we'll get there soon enough and have some interesting Fou-Lu and Ryu interaction, as well as Yahla and Ryu. And I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter.

rainbowrose- Oh no, not odd at all. Unfortunately, my country has stupid laws requiring me to attend a high school that is also attended by teenage boys. And I assure you, that is just about how they act, as well as giving each other such nicknames as Dogface. Although in my school it can be worse that just verbal…I recall the boy who, as a joke, shoved his friend into one of the walls and left an human sized hole in it. Very interesting bonding experiences boys have…

Luna's Meow- There may not be more of me, but I have multiple personalities. Does that count? ^_^ (P.S. This is not true. Those voices in my head are LYING!)

Shardsofpower- Fun to write, as well. :)

Windigo the Feral NYAR- Long time no see! I'm glad you like it. (I probably check back up at Project Freakdom one of these days, if it's still around. But real life keeps interfering. Blah. )

****

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Thirty Seven

Romantic Turmoil

The sandfliers skimmed smoothly above the desert floor, cresting the rise of a sand dune with barely a puff of sand thrown up in their path. The sand settled again after their passage, and the small night-creatures that had fled the disturbance extracted themselves from their burrows in the sand.

It was night, nearly a week and a half after Yahla's fateful injury. The moon beamed steadily down from the cloudless black of the sky, its silver tone replacing the lively colors the night had washed out. Princess Nina had taken the opportunity to enjoy the cool night air, and Ryu had joined her on deck. Besides the usual Imperial guards, they were alone, most of the others opting to stay below deck.

Nina leaned forward on the ship's railing, her head tilted back to watch the expanse of the sky. "The stars are wonderful tonight, aren't they? You can see them so much better in the desert, where there aren't any clouds, can't you, Ryu?" she prompted, glancing down at her silent companion. He stood at quietly at her side, with his blue hair falling down before eyes vaguely trained on the passing scenery.

Ryu obliged her with a response, though from appearances he remained lost in thought. "Yes. They're very nice." Little interest did his patient tone betray in the stars, occupied as he was with meaningful things. 

"It's strange, isn't it, Ryu? " she asked softly, turning fully to regard the dragon, who brought his head down out of the clouds. 

"Hmm?" he queried mildly, his blue eyes focusing on hers. It was a piercing gaze, even when it was not directly focused upon a recipient, and Nina felt a shiver run through her spine. Still, she met his gaze and held it, having grown used to the shock of his scrutiny long ago. 

Her hands tightening on the railing, the windian explained pensively, "All this time we've been trying to get into the empire…and now we're on our way. And suddenly I'd rather be anywhere else in the world."

Ryu sighed, a breath of air that seemed endlessly filled with intimacy and regret. "Nina…" 

At the sound of her name, she felt her throat tighten convulsively. She knew what he would say, and the protest pushed its unbidden way out between her lips, the wild appeal of a child crying when life shed its semblance of fair play. "Why do you have to go to him? Why can't you stay here, with me?

"I have to, Nina. We were fated to meet." He let his gaze drop from the accusation and entreaty evident in her eyes, continuing softly, "He'll come for me, Nina, even if I don't go to him."

There was no reasonable solution, and she knew it. At the beginning of their quest, she had been confident that Ryu would win, that they couldn't come this far only to lose to the Empire. But she had discovered that Ryu did not share her early confidence, that he did not expect to triumph. And that frightened her and drove her to seek options beyond and against her common sense. "We can hide, can't we? Live out our lives together!"

"How? As pig farmers? He can sense me…I can't hide from him," Ryu admitted the last with a dip of his head, an acknowledgement of his helplessness in the situation. "And you're royalty…your father would never stop searching for you."

Even as the truth of his words registered, she felt an uncharacteristic surge of resentment, accusing, "You won't even try!" 

"Nina…" The apology in his voice dissolved her frustration as quickly as it had come, bringing tears to the windian's eyes. "It couldn't ever work, Nina." He murmured, after a painful moment, "I'm sorry."

"Ryu…" Cheeks streaked with wet, she moved to touch him, to kiss him. But even as she drew near him and could see his face radiant in the light of the overhead moon, he stepped beyond her reach and fended her embrace off with his hands.

As he held her away from himself, the dragon spoke with a tone of finality. "Don't, Nina." His voice trembled, dropping to a whisper. "Just don't." 

She turned and fled his presence, he who was fated either to outlive her or to die long before her time.

"I don't understand her at all."

Darnik, startled out of his mental rendition of ninety-nine bottles of bear on the wall, turned to see Ryu standing next to him with an exasperated, almost sullen air. The extra layer of sand about his person suggested he had been above deck, where the desert wind blew grit onto every surface and into every exposed orifice. Discerningly, the windian responded, "Huh?" 

The dragon slid down to sit against the wall and replied shortly, "Nina. Women in general." 

"You and coz got in a fight, Dragon-boy?" the mortal guessed, correctly identifying the root of the problem. Of course, why else would Ryu be complaining about Nina?

"You're a bright one, aren't you?" Ryu commented sarcastically, folding his arms across his knees and burying his head in them. That left only the tufts of his spiky hair visible, and gave Darnik the vague impression of a porcupine.

Shrugging, Darnik replied, "Hey, someone here has to be!" 

A muffled response accosted him, assuring him the dragon was at least still listening to him talk. "Somehow I don't think you qualify as that someone."

"Hah! I do too!" the windian exclaimed loudly, losing some of his animation when Ryu failed to respond, "Man, you're doing bad, if you're not even going to disagree with that!" 

Ryu muttered something insulting. 

"Look up, will you? I don't want to talk to the back of your spiky blue head." The windian was starting to grow concerned about the situation. Just what had happened, and was Nina in a similar state? "Seriously, dragon boy. What's up? Tell Uncle D. all about it."

"If you were my uncle I would kill myself," the dragon said, glancing up at the mortal through the veil of his bangs.

Encouraged by eye-to-eye contact, Darnik added cheekily, "And it would make your relationship with my cousin kind of weird." _Oo, incest…_

"What relationship?" The bitter tone of that statement immediately grabbed Darnik's attention. 

"She dumped you?" Somehow the windian couldn't see it happening. Nina was a selective type, and if she became interested she was likely to stay that way. Besides, she would worry about hurting feelings or offending her former sweetheart. 

The Endless shook his head. "No, I…." He broke off mid-explanation, interjecting abruptly, "Why can't she understand that this won't work?"   


Putting the pieces together, Darnik ventured another guess. "She threw herself at you, huh?" The dragon's glare and lack of response was all the answer he needed. "And you turned her down. Man, if a girl like that, who wasn't related to me, offered to get me laid I'd have her clothes off in three seconds. Are you sure you aren't gay?"

"Screw you," the dragon said.

"Further evidence!" Ryu threw a punch and Darnik ducked out of the way. "Hey, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Go away," the Endless ordered, the spark in his oddly blue eyes making Darnik reconsider further teasing. "Now."

Seeing no other option, Darnik relinquished gracefully and departed, with the intention of finding Nina, wherever she had secreted herself on the sandflier. If she was anywhere near as upset as Ryu, Darnik wanted to be there to hold her when she cried. 


	40. Middle English Glossary

Middle English

A compilation of words used in 'A Future Rewritten'

Various Works were used to compile these. 

__

A note- In the game, a bastardized version of Middle English was used, and in order to stay with the game I have attempted to follow that trend. Because of this, this is not an accurate portrayal. For instance, 'mine' should only be used instead of 'my' before an initial vowel or the letter h. However, in the game, it is used all the time, so I have done so as well to give a feeling of continuity.

abideth, abydeth- awaits 

abiding- awaiting 

able- suitable 

abide- remain, wait 

ablutions- cleansings 

abode- delay or waited

above- superior 

acat- a purchase

accord, acord- agreement 

acer or acre- field

acertainen- to inform

acorded- agreed 

adown- below

adread- afraid 

adust- sunburnt, browned

adverse- placed opposite

afeared- afraid

affray- quarrel or brawl

affiance-trust

aforetime- previously, earlier

after-meat_-_ the time after dinner

agast- frightened 

agon- gone by, past 

agrave- buried 

ahid- hidden 

aiel_- _grandfather

al- although

alday- daily

alderbest- best of all 

alderfirst- first of all, to begin with 

alderlovest- most beloved 

aldermost- most of all 

all before_- _first

all and some- one and all, everybody

allege- adduce, cite 

alleys- garden paths

allien- ally oneself, marry

alight- arrive

ally- kinsman 

almerie- a place for safekeeping

al speak he- though he may speak

amalgaming- blending, amalgamation

ambages- equivocation, ambiguity

ambidexter- double dealer

amend- improve, correct, remedy 

ambler- pacing horse

an- and if

anelas- a wide two-edged dagger

annoy-trouble

anon- at once, now, immediately

appaled- pale-looking, faded

apposed- questioned

araiment- clothes

argent- silver or something that looks like it

aright-certainly or in a proper manner, correctly

array_- _equipment or dress, clothes

aroint- be gone

arow_-_ in succession (as in 'a row', a-row)

aslaked- calmed

assay- trial, test

assent- consent, will, opinion

asieged- besieged 

assoilen- to absolve, pardon, or atone for.

assured- confident

astart- escaped 

astonied- dazed, bewildered.

astored- provided 

asunder- apart

aswooned_-_ in a swoon 

at erst- for the first time

athirst- thirsty

athwart- across

atone- to appease

attaint- a disgrace or stigma

attenden- to wait for, expect

atwain- apart 

atwo_- _in two 

aught- anything whatever

avail_- _help, benefit

availen_- _take off 

avarice- greed

avaunce- prosper

avaunt- hence, away, forward

avaunting- boasting

avautier- adulterer 

avautrey- adultery 

avocation- diversion, distraction, entertainment

avow_- _vow, solemn pledge 

aweary- tired

aye or ayye_- _always

bait- a stop for food or rest, or to stop for food or rest

balken- to plow up in ridges

bannen- to summon, banish, curse

bannok- a flat bread made of oatmeal or barley flour

baronage- nobles, nobility

bath- cauldron

bathen- bask

bawdery- pandering 

bawdes- pimps

bebled_- _covered with blood

bechance- to happen or to happen to

bedight- to dress

bedrid_- _bedridden, confined to bed, or decrepit

befell- (it) happened

beguilers- liars, deceivers 

behest- promise

behight- promised 

beknow- reveal, confess

blent- deceived, blinded 

belike- probably, likely, perhaps

benign- kind, good, gracious 

benignity- goodness 

benignly- graciously 

benison- blessing

bereave- remove, deprive, take away

beseem- to befit, be appropriate

beshrew- to curse

bespeaken- to speak out

besprent- sprinkle over

bethink- to cause oneself to think or remember

betimes- quickly, soon

betwixt- between

bewray- to disclose or betray

biddeth- pray

binge- to purchase

blankmanger- a dish made with almond milk

board- dinner table

boon- request, prayer

boten- to be of help 

bounden- obligatory, to be obliged

bounty- goodness, virtue 

bour- inner room, bedroom, private room for lord and lady

boures- bedrooms 

bourn- destination

bowyer- an archer

brainish- headstrong

brand- torch

brawn- muscle or meat 

brawnes- muscles 

breme- fiercely 

briberies- ways of stealing money

brittle- insecure, unstable

brittleness- insecurity, instability, fickleness

bruit- noise

bullock- a young bull or castrated bull 

burgies- citizen of a city

burials- burial places

by aventure- by chance

by none assent- not at all 

by one assent- unanimously 

by rote- by heart 

cade- pet lamb

cadent- falling (like water or another liquid)

caitiff- wretch

caitives- wretched creatures

cake- loaf of bread 

caple- nag, a small riding-horse or pony

caples- horses

carven- past tense of carve

caudle- wine or ale mixed with sugar, bread, egg, and spices, served warm. Often given to sick people.

chalons- blankets 

chamberer- (chamber)maid

chanceful- eventful

chapman- merchant

chappen- to split

character- distinctive mark, imprint on soul

cheapfare- bargaining

cheapfaren- to haggle

chest- coffin 

chiterling- cooked small intestine of pig. Still eaten today.

cirurgien- surgeon

clepen- to call, name

clippen- to clasp, embrace

cloutes- rags

collup- a small portion of food, meat in particular

combren- to annoy

commensal- sharing a meal

committee- trustee

commodious- convenient 

common profit- common interest

commones- common soldiers

commune- communicate, have conversation with 

complice- associate, accomplice 

concupiscence- sexual desire, lust

conduit- a fountain

conjuration- a solemn entreaty or appeal

consubstancial- of the same substance, nature, or essence.

continuance- perseverance

conversen- to associate with

convertible- interchangeable

corn- grain

corsage- torso

cotsete- cottage dweller

courages- spirits, feelings

courtesy- good conduct, refinement of manners 

cousinage- kinship

covenable- appropriate 

covenant- agreement, contract

crompid- cake 

crops- shoots, new leaves

crosselet- crucible

crustade- a pie with a crust

cry- beg for

culpable- deserving of blame

culpe- guilt

cure- charge, jurisdiction

dainty- fine, valuable, excellent 

dainties- delicacies

dalliance- flirtation 

dampened- condemned 

deathsman- executioner

debonair- modest, gracious 

debonairety- graciousness, meekness 

debonairly- gently, modestly, graciously

defamation- slander 

defame- bad reputation

default- flaw

defended- forbade

defy- repudiate 

deign- lower oneself

deign of reverence- worthy of respect

deliver- agile, active, nimble 

deliverly- nimbly

deliverness- dexterity 

delve- dig 

demand- question 

demeth- a judge

demitten- to release

depaint- stained 

depainted- painted

despite- scorn, disdain, insult, contempt 

despiteous- scornful 

despiteously- angrily 

destraineth- afflicts, distresses, compels 

destrier- war horse

devise- tell, narrate or look upon, inspect or instruct, command

devoir- duty

devolven- to transfer

did execution- carried out the law

diner or dinner- breakfast, the morning meal

disclaundry- slander, defame 

discord- disagreement 

discourse- process of reasoning

disfigure- deformity, disfigurement 

dispense- expenditure(s)

disport- amuse oneself 

disposed- determined, decided 

draweth cuts- draw lots 

drawn to memory- be remembered 

dread- fear, be afraid 

eftsoons- soon after, presently, once again

enow- enough

entoil- to ensnare, entrap

enured- customary

er or ere- before, formerly 

ernest- seriousness 

erst- superlative before, earlier, previously 

erstwhile- some time ago

evil apaid- displeased

express- clearly, explicit 

fain- happily, gladly

fare- journey, business

fere- spouse, companion

fet- suitable

fetisly- elegantly

fill in office- was employed, got employed

flagicious- wicked

flavor- aroma

fleten- to drift, float

folily- foolishly 

forefend- to forbid

forpined ghost- tormented spirit

forthren- help 

forwitting- forknowledge

forspent- worn out

fostered- brought up, raised 

forworn- worn out

foul- ugly, dirty; vicious, evil 

foul affray- terrible assault 

friture- A small cake often containing fruit, veggies or fish. Made from batter, it is sautéed or deep fried.

frore- extremely cold; frosty

full fain- very gladly

full fast- very close 

full fetis- very elegant 

full fetisly- very elegantly 

full little- very little 

full oft- very often 

full perilous- very dangerous 

full seemly- in a very seemly manner 

full well- very well

garth- a yard or garden

gentle- noble, refined, excellent 

gingebred- a stiff pudding preserved by ginger.

girdle- belt 

girt- encircled 

gleed- glowing coal or ember

gleesome- gleeful

grange- a granary

great disport- excellent deportment 

great estate- excellent condition

grisel- grey

gromandise- gluttony

guerdon- reward, requital

gyve- shackle or fetter

harneys- armor, fighting equipment 

heaviness- drowsiness 

hence- from this place, from this time, from this source

henceforth- from now on

hest- command

hindrest- last

his wit beset- used his wits

hither- to this place, to here

hither and yon, hither and thither- here and there

hithermost- nearest to here

hitherto- until now

hochepot- mixture 

horrent- covered with bristles, bristling

hostel, hostelry- inn, lodging

hosteler- innkeeper

imparten- impart

impertinent- irrelevant 

in a clause- briefly, in a few words 

in common- generally, in general

indign- unworthy 

induration- hardening

in malady- ill

insipience- lack of wisdom 

ire- anger, irritability 

irremeable- allowing no feasible return.

janglerer- chatterer, gossiper 

jangleress- chatterbox, female gossip 

janglery- chatter 

jangles- gossip

jelep- a sugar syrup 

jocund- jovial, joyful, jolly

kirtel- a woman's skirt or dress

knarry- gnarled

laven- to wash oneself

lavendry- laundry

leave- permission 

leave- grant, allow 

leaveful- lawful, permissible 

lecherous- wanton, flirtatious, gluttonous 

lecherousness- wantonness 

legiance- allegiance, obedience or fealty

leman- lover or mistress

letuaries- medical mixtures, electuaries 

letuary- medicine 

lies- dregs, lees

lightly- easily 

lightness- agility 

likerous- appetizing

loath- reluctant 

lothely- loathsome, hideous 

lorn- lost 

lowely- modest, humble 

makeless- matchless 

maken strife- cause trouble, quarrel 

malison- a curse

master street- main street 

maugre- despite, in spite of

maugre his heed- against his will, despite his struggles

measurable- moderate, temperate

meat- food or the evening meal

mere- boundary 

merry note- pleasant voice 

meseems- it seems to me

mete- a boundary line

meten- to measure

methinks- I think, it seems to me

minstralcie- musical instrument

mischance- misfortune 

misericord- pity

misgovernance- misconduct, misbehavior

mishap- misfortune 

mishappy- miserable 

moillen- soften by wetting

mollification- softening

mote- may, might

much and light- great and small, everybody 

mullok- rubbish, garbage

muniment- a method of defense

nathless- none the less

naught or nought- nothing

never a deal- not a bit

nice- foolish, scrupulous 

nicety- simplicity, foolishness 

nifles- silly stories 

nigh- close 

nobledest- ennobled 

note- job, task

obeisance- obedience 

observance- duty 

offension- injury

oft- many, often 

ofttimes- frequently

orbe- orbit

ordinance- decree, order

overmatch- defeat, outmatch 

overriden- run over

painture- painting 

paramour- mistress, concubine 

paramours- passionately

parcel- portion 

pastey- seasoned meat pie

patent- a document granting a right

paucite- scarcity, fewness

penible- indefatigable, painstaking

perdurable- eternal, everlasting 

peril- peril, serious and immediate danger 

pertenen_-_ befit

phisik- medicine 

pinch at- find a flaw in 

pinched- pleated

pleasance- pleasure, delight 

poche- a dish of poached eggs

poppet- little doll

port- bearing, manner

potable- a drink 

portion- quantity 

porray- vegetable soup

porringer- a soup bowl with a handle, or a shallow cup

possot- a spiced drink of hot sweetened milk clabbered with wine or ale.

post- pillar, supporter 

potage- soup 

pothecary- apothecary 

prentice- apprenctice 

presage- prediction 

prescience- foreknowledge 

press- crowd 

proper good- own wealth/income

pudding- a type of sausage.

pulcritude- comeliness, charm

purveyance- providence, foresight 

quell- kill

quick- alive, lively, vivid 

quicked, quickened- revived, rekindled 

quicken- revive 

quickest street- busiest street

ragery- wantonness

rampeth- shakes her fist 

rathe- quick

rasen- to scrape off

receipt- formula, recipe

reckon- to avenge 

reckon- enumerate, consider, take account of, count 

recognizance- formal pledge 

rede- to give advice or counsel

rehearse- repeat 

rehearsal- enumeration

reign- kingdom, realm

reles- taste 

renege- deny, renounce 

repair- visitors, resort 

repeten- repeat

repletion- over-eating 

replication- reply 

reprievable- reprehensible, blameworthy 

reprieve- reproof

reveler- rake, profligate

ribaldry- coarse jesting, ribaldry

rouncy- carthorse, nag 

route- company, group of people 

sapience- wisdom 

sapiences- mental abilities 

save- except (that) 

saving- except

savory- pleasant 

say sooth- tell the truth 

scandlry- disgrace

scathe- a pity 

scutel- basket

seethe- to boil

semblable- similar 

sentence- decision, command 

sennight- a week

shamble- butcher shop

shamefast- modest 

shamefastness- modesty 

shapen- destined 

shrewdness- wickedness 

shroud- garment

similitude- complement, counterpart 

simnel- a type of bread 

simpire- simmer

sin- since

sith- since

slake- diminish 

slake- slow

slender- lean, feeble

slide- slip away 

slight- trickery 

smart- brisk 

smorther- dense smoke

snubben- rebuke 

sober- serious, grave 

soberly- seriously, gravely 

soft- gently, quietly; gentle, quiet 

so great repair- many visitors 

sojourn- remain 

soothly- truly 

soppe- bread dipped in liquid

sortilege- magic, witchcraft

souse- to pounce, swoop down 

sovereign- best, outstanding, most excellent 

sovereign price- outstanding reputation

speed- hurry 

sportive- amorous or wanton

spray- branch 

stound- a short time or while

straight tied- tightly fastened

stithy- anvil or forge

striving- strife, quarrelling

strouten- to stand out

stub- tree stump

sublimed- purified 

submiss- submissive 

substance- income 

subtlety- craftiness, trickery 

suffer- allow 

sufficient- suitable

suffrance- patience, forbearance 

sundry- various, different 

supper- the evening meal

surety- security, certainty, pledge, promise 

sweeting- sweetheart

swinge- to hit, beat, thrash

tabor- drum 

tache- clasp or buckle.

tapicer- tapestry-maker, weaver of tapestries, rugs, etc.

teem- to be or become with child

teen- trouble, vexation

tenden- to wait on

thence- from there

thenceforth- from then on

therebefore- previously 

thereon- immediately following

thereto- moreover 

thereunto- to this, that, or it

therewith- immediately there after

thunder-dent- thunderstroke

trevet- stand for cooking vessels

thither- to there

thitherto- until then

thrice- three times or extremely, greatly (like, _I am thrice appalled_)

thrift- prosperity

trine- threefold, triple

thorp- a hamlet

through-girt- pierced through 

thus- like so, in this manner

thy, thine- your. Thy is used except when the before an initial vowel or _h. _For example- _Know thy contestant _as opposed to_ Know thine enemy._

tide- befall

tinct- a transforming elixir

tipeler- bartender

to over bide- to outlive

too light- too little 

took his wit- calculated

to ridden out- to go campaigning

tormentry- torture 

tossen- to throw, toss

towardly- auspicious, favorable, advantageous

tract- a stretch or lapse of time

treacle- medicine, remedy

treen- made of wood

trenchant- sharp 

trendle- wheel

tripet- wooden game piece

trite- frayed or worn

trocle- pulley

twa- two 

twain- two

twixt- between

umbles- edible animal organs, 

umble pie- humble pie, a pie made from organs of a deer or hog.

undertake- affirm, declare 

unhollow- to profain

unlikeness- unsuitability 

unrest- distress 

untread- go back over (ones course), retrace

untrue- inaccurately 

unwise- uninformed, unknown

unyolk- to stop working

upon land- in the countryside 

usury- money paid or charged on loans

varletry- a rabble or crowd, usually of servants and attendants

venial- pardonable, capable of being excused or forgiven 

venery- the indulgence or pursuit of sexual activity.

verily- truly 

vain- foolish, wrong, idle 

viage- journey 

vinolent- drunken

visage- face 

vouch safe- agree, grant 

voided- removed

waferers- sellers of wafer-cakes 

wamelen- to feel nausea

wanhope- despair 

ward- custody 

warden- guardian 

wastrel-bread- expensive white bread

watchful- not sleeping, awake

waters corrosive- acids 

wax- become, grow, increase, breed 

weave- turn aside, neglect 

webster- weaver 

wem- harm 

wemmeless- spotless, without blemish 

whenas- when or whereas

whence- from where 

whencesoever- from whatever place or source

whennes- whence, why 

whereof- of what or of which

whereon- on which

while ere- just now

whilom- at times

whilst- while 

wight- person, creature, being 

wilst or wilt- will, second person

wilth- will, third person

whither- to where

whithersoever- to whatever place or source

wit- intelligence, mind, judgement 

withal- in addition

with all voices- unanimously

withhold- forced to remain 

withsay- renounce, deny 

wise- know

wite- blame

wone- practice, custom 

woned- dwelt 

wonen- dwell 

wonning- dwelling

wraw- grumpy, ill-tempered, peevish

wroth- angry 

wyvere- snake, viper

yestereve- yesterday night

yestermorn- yesterday morning

yestermorrow- yesterday morning

yesteryear- last year

yield- give back 

yielden- surrender; pay 

yon- that one or those yonder


End file.
